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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Horror/Scary · #1414017
Life leaving behind it's echo, I see a child playing in the snow.
Life leaving behind it's echo,
I see a child playing in the snow.
I see the the grim reaper out the window,
The wind suddenly starts to blow.
Faces are white like the moon glow,
What is it they want me to know?
Suddenly, the room gets colder.
I feel a hand on my shoulder.
I see a shadow in the hall,
It pushes me to see me fall.
The empty swing is swaying,
The music behind me is softly playing.
The heat is pushed up to 85 degrees,
Then it's all the way down again, so I freeze.
Lights are flickering, doors are opening.
All the faded voices are whispering.
I hear someone tapping on the wall,
It pulled her into the closet in the hall.
I feel someone touching my hair,
I turn around but nobody's there.
I see a man peering over his paper at me,
A man with a dark hood appears for me to see.
Stones at my back are being thrown,
I'm hearing a little girl's laughter when I'm alone.
For my brothers, they are seeing the same.
I hear them whispering my name.
Why do I believe in spirits and ghosts?
For all these reasons I'll give a toast...
To those who linger on and try to speak.
For us who will listen to what they seek.

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