It's Never The Voice You Hear Poem by James McLain

It is my home of sorts,
but a lot of people have died here.

Two suffications and three suicide's
One jumped from the roof,
and it has been happening to me alot.

It's never a voice, I reconize.
I have never heard the voices of those
here whom have died.

On my chest though when a sleep
one comes to rest.
Each smell's different and I can tell
two were females.

The jumper was a male who comes
each night,
when no one's there.
My period stopped two months ago
when he starts.

It's a warm dream, to be moist to be alert.
My expirience has been,
like yours, if you will tell the truth.

Sometimes he gets interupted by a voice,
a voice I hear,
a voice of hers, that makes him stop.

I am fairly certain,
that this group home is infused
with higher than normal, paranormal activity.