No Dead Poets Society
Inside a house on Halloween one night
I woke, not knowing how its heavy door
got shut. I looked around and felt such fright.
Blood was on the ceiling, walls and floor!
I then recalled a presence I had felt
when first I’d gone inside that house of gloom.
I now recalled blows to my head I’d felt
before I’d passed out in the empty room.
Where did the blood come from? Was this a dream?
I looked, and now a body I could see.
I went to it, then gave a silent scream.
It was a corpse that looked a lot like me!
The body was smashed up. With shock I gasped.
The corpse was no one’s but my very own.
At last the meaning of it all I grasped . . .
A ghost writer I am and all alone.
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