Trapped In The Past - Poem by Orlando Belo
My home town is still dark and sombre.
The street where I lived still has only one light.
The house I was brought up in was haunted,
which gave me nightmares every night.
Lately, I have been feeling drawn to that place
even though I was pleased to escape.
Today it remains boarded up and empty,
and I am just visiting for old times sake.
Both my parents saw out their lives here
and gave the other dwellers no mind.
They said they didn't experience what I did
and disbelieved in the ghostly kind.
That front door leads to hell-hole of misery,
every memory a pain in my mind.
I'm overjoyed that I don't have to venture inside,
because there is nothing that I want to find.
However, I have found myself in there
it's dark and the plaster on the walls is coming off.
The floorboards have decayed and rotted with woodworm.
The silence has been broken by a slamming door in the loft.
I can distinctly hear talking in an upstairs bedroom,
which has brought a cold shudder down my spine.
Goose bumps on my flesh have formed and tightened,
and my feelings are of the worst possible kind.
This place is rekindling so many unpleasant memories,
and I didn't really want to come this far.
I'm frantically trying to get out of here, but I'm trapped
with the ghosts that I lived with before.
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