PoetrySad Poems

Anti-social

Broken windows; broken heart
Dark rooms; dark humor
Blood-stained walls; blood-stained thoughts
I am a house; a haunted house

Ghosts lurk around my corridors
The dim lights are always twitching
The voices never keep quiet
And the visitors never leave

I am a dark place; a quiet place
Where angels and demons thrive
Where you only dream nightmares
And where humans don’t survive

Daylight is a myth around here
Crows are the only birds around here
Black as bottomless pits
And sings of crying ghosts

The lady you see by the broken window
White as chalk with a faceless face
Is but a widow who cried herself to sleep
And then drank herself to death

Do not come in…

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