PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

wooden bridge at the Old Mill Creek

hard wind blows and the shadows speak

and the only voices you'll ever hear

are the ones from the crypt as you're drawing near.

stillness haunts like a slashing sword

felt in your throat 'neath the creaking board

and you see what you feel in the depths of your soul

and your skin starts to peel as your fear takes its toll.

gallow swings and your breathing slowed

only those who want to die follow this road

and the first step is always the hardest, they say

put your head in the noose and then jump till you sway.



and the shadows will greet you parading your fall

and the darkness protects like a wailing wall

and the moon will stay cold till the sun claims the sky

and your body will dance one more time till you die.