sounds and scratches on the floor, as muscles
tense from the sores.
they fester deep and cling real tight, haunting
taunting in the night
you plea for help but no one's there, as your
blood spills everywhere.
you scream and beg through the pitch black room
pleading for them to leave real soon
screeching at your once safe mind, they take
away all comfort you find
tears and claw marks down my face, i want
to leave this tortorous place.
i beg them please one last time, but their blood
lust screech drowns out my cries.
monsters, monsters...under my bed...will leave
my mind forever dead...
moonsters in your poem are really alive through your sharp words And you can easily share the feeling with your audience.. Great job! !
eeeksss! ! ! ...like a Dracula movie it clings to the psyche.... probably it delivers a very potent and strong punch of realism..... as modern and as medieval as one wishes it to be.... great lines :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Cassandra I like your uneque style.