The Goblin
The face in the
mirror,
Is it yours alone?
Can you find yourself,
In the fog?
Or is he just out of sight,
Only to appear,
when you slowly
Turn your eyes
to see of he is near?
Is it possible to feel shadows?
The ones that,
Creep across the walls
And slide their long cold fingers
Down the back of our necks,
Making the finest hairs stand on end?
The unintelligible whispers that crawl
Into your ear traveling down to the
Pit of your stomach,
Forcing you to awaken in a cold sweat.
Who or what is there and what do they
Want?
The childhood goblin that slept in your closet,
Slid and hid beneath your bed
Just to rise at your feet,
And tickle your toes.
Has he grown with you?
Steering you steps and
Guiding Your hands through fear.
Do you hear him?
Do you listen?
Copyright © Charles Pullen | Year Posted 2016
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