Title: Everyday
by Hannah from Bedfordshire | in writing, poetry
The slates, they glare
How can such blank things stare?
The walls, they mutter
Not daring to reveal what they utter.
The rafters, they mumble
Fighting off the urge to crumble.
The doors, they shout
Swinging furiously to let us out.
The windows, they watch
Transparent eyes count every notch.
The ceilings they moan
Holding up this house of stone.
The chimneys, they roar
Belching smoke like blood and gore.
This is a house of endless noise.
How a paranoid person would feel in a completely silent house. Edgar Allan Poe inspired too.
Comments