Unrest

By Mike Morbid

Footsteps where they should not be.
Is this, in fact, insanity?
Or might it be reality?

She to whom I gave my vow,
often spurned my bed with a scowl,
then to the taverns she would prowl.

I sought her out to make a stand,
but found her with another man.
I returned home with another plan.

When she returned for her purse,
I greeted her with knife and curse.
To her rest she rode a hearse.

Now through the window in the gloom,
I see a shadow from the tomb.
I fear it lusts for my doom.

I hear the creaking of the door,
then a shuffling 'cross the floor.
Soon, I think, I'll hear no more.

Footsteps where they should not be.
Is this, in fact, insanity?
I pray, it is not....

reality.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2016 Mike Morbid
Published on Tuesday, August 16, 2016.     Filed under: "Horror" and "Poetry"
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Comments on "Unrest"

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  • Just Dave On Thursday, August 25, 2016, Just Dave (458)By person wrote:

    Great poem. Sorry about the heartache. It seems like you have a good sense of humor. That definitely helps.

  • Void Vortex On Friday, August 19, 2016, Void Vortex (303)By person wrote:

    Heheh. A kinda playful tone for a horror piece. Thanks for sharing.

  • Mike Morbid On Friday, August 19, 2016, Mike Morbid (4)By person wrote:

    Thank you kindly. I must admit that I imagine it being read aloud by Vincent Price.

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