Haunted
The pointed tip of a knife in a balancing act?
Sharpened on the cutting edge waits on his finger,
Playing with time as the butcher looks on undecided,
When his next prey will come to challenge this fine blade.
Ages have gone by since it tasted blood in this house,
Possessed by ghost man and his ever present knife.
Copyright © Jai Garg | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment