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POEM 20 - At The Door, No Reason For
The day you came to my door, I did not know your reason for,
Your intrusion of this life, so I picked up my knife,
Then slowly opened the door to see you not there, but indeed it was me,
It was my soul, my life, my heart, standing in the dreary night of dark,
It was my soul, my life, my heart, standing in the dreary night of dark,
I stared in horror at my face, and the knife in his glove of lace.
I fell back onto the floor, dropping the knife where it could not be saw,
Then myself walked up to me, miming words from its mouth to me,
It seemed to mime to words of a poem that I had once read one night,
It was my soul, my life, my heart, standing in the dreary night of dark,
It was my soul, my life, my heart, standing in the dreary night of dark,
It dropped the knife and stared at me, and its face did not hold any glee.
It drew a tear from its empty eyes, where in it my soul I could see lie,
A little childhood me reading a book, with intrigue in its merciful look,
The words I were miming on the tip of my tongue, like a singer, forgotten their song,
It was my soul, my life, my heart, standing in the dreary night of dark,
It was my soul, my life, my heart, standing in the dreary night of dark,
The self that had came at the door, pulled back the knife and aimed for more,
Then the words written by Edgar Allan Poe came to mind, and it was a simple, one word line,
The self that had came at the door, slashed the knife and muttered, "nevermore..."
Found this in a folder on my dad's computer, from ages ago. It was wrote on Friday 16th June, 2006. I'm going to post the others in a minute. I found them in a folder called 'Dales Poetry.' I wrote these just because I was bored I think.
 DaleLuck1313 · Sat Nov 18, 2006 @ 03:29pm · 0 Comments |
