Whilst Sitting At My Writing Desk
whilst sitting at my writing desk
with candle at death’s door
my tired eyes missed pot of ink,
arm sent it to the floor
a sign the sandman beckoned me
my eyes turned to the ground
then my knees did follow so, for
nowhere was it found
bemused I stood and took back step
but now less to me was clear,
my writings and my favoured quill
had also disappeared
no time had I to contemplate
as shadow made it’s move
which drew my gaze towards the thing
in the corner of the room
there it sat with quill in hand
pot of ink sat by it’s side
changes to my writings made
it stared at me with all it’s eyes
eternity between us stood
no move could I make nor conceive
then with piercing screams of terror
it lunged it’s grasp and self at me
few things have ever frightened I
I but frightened many more
but no shame did this horror permit
I ran to claw upon the door
locked! my luck, I felt the end
my lungs lost all their sacred air
I turned to meet my own demise
but turned see no thing there
glancing at my writing desk
pages of new words on show
intrigue will never best my chills
those words I’d rather never know
May 22nd 2020
Copyright © Unknow Error | Year Posted 2020
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