The Haunted House

This is the tale of my haunted house

My house used to be lively, happy, young
It used to be free, loving, calm
It was surrounded by colorful flower garden 
Its used to alive, green, beautiful

But my ingredients changed
My building materials changed
Now the inside looks like the outside, and vice versa
The negative has taken its full control
The opposite direction to which I follow offers no solutions

My numbers slimming 
I sit alone in my haunted house
Through the screams, the squeaky noise and the shadows 
Afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to be heard
Afraid to die alone.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace