PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It was a bad news week

My suburban neighborhood locked the gates

Two sisters from Zanzibar they had toxic spiked hair

Everyone hid in fear when they knocked on the door

The news told us that someone had escaped

The sisters walked around to try and convert 

i accepted and agreed the cross was to be climbed up upon

Out of all these people in the neighborhood only some were people

The lawns looked normal as normal as can be

The streets were always so clean and fresh

I calculated the dimensions and circumferences

This neighborhood was designed to remain

I never visited any of the others

The other homes are always somewhat identical

Only deviations between variations and corners

Without any space or scenery 

Sometimes the people inside looked like mannequins

They wouldn’t move for many minutes

Sweet nothing’s to the air like a soft angel’s voice

You have got to escape it said

When the moon is in the third part of the night

And the wolves travel down the hill by the highway

Take your flashlight bright and walk to the gate

A bad news week it was that I know

The TV sets inside the homes showed it

But nobody was alive here except a few others

I didn’t know until it was too late

I didn’t know I was human