The Imp’s Dream

The Writing Tram: Poetry in Your Pocket

FEAR

Smells like chalk

in an abandoned school house

where the air hasn’t been alive for a long time

 

Fear

Tastes like spoiled milk

hours after you swallowed it

now all you can smell is decay.

 

Fear

Sounds like a knock

coming from inside of your closet

when you are all alone in the house

and there is a  lightning storm raging outside

 

Fear

feels like

being soaked to the skin

and the rain won’t stop coming down

Fear

feels like

missing the last bus late at night

and not a soul is with you on that dark and lonely corner

Fear

feels like

waiting to hear your name

in a place

where nobody should know it.

FEAR

 

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