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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1578942
About the whispers of the past.
Soft silk of spiders' webs and
Mirrors on my walls
All seems to freeze at their
Footsteps and their calls

I always lock the door and
Wrap around the chain
I think I'm safe from them but
They just call again

Howls in the night echo
My sobbing and my screams
Just memories of seeing them
Whisper through my dreams

Sometimes they don't come and
Some of the whispers fade
But they always come back and
New whispers are made
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