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by LP3 Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1270711
Glimpses of a past time...
A Haunting

Pictures of the ruins fluttered before my eyes,
I cut my hair with you in the mirror.
The morning glory withers in the dark presence,
Day by day, the colours turn rotten.

A creak goes the door,
a shadow steps out.
Moths darted around in the darkness.
Dried vines hang and creep around the corners.

A drop of red pollutes the wooden floor,
My feet turn sore and I can't walk.
The crimson spreads and reaches my thoughts,
A grey cloud contaminates the sky above the moor.

It stands in the shadows, waiting for me.
The eeriness sending chills in the surroundings.
Air goes cold and glasses shatter,
piercing each and every corner of my mirror.

Red wine spills and drenches,
Covering the floorboards like an avalanche.
I hate myself for staying here,
watching myself in a broken mirror.

Candles blow in the strong breeze,
The windowpanes itch, and then they creak.
A full moon illuminates the black trees,
A gale swoops onto the dead leaves.

The clock strikes the middle of the night,
A ringing bell in the silence.
I lie on my bed and wait for sunlight,
Dawn has never been loving.

A torn lantern hangs from the rafters,
Bringing myself with it as well.
As the clock ticks, away goes the presence.
However, living legends still dwell.
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