I would stand upon this floor
If not for the knocking that I abhor
A knocking from the souls of Hell
A knocking that I must eagerly dwell

For now my feet above the ground
And upon my chair a home they’ve found
As knocking knocks a horrid sound
And souls from Hell are all around

Time does pass with slow pace
But every tick the knock does race
And every tock my mind does brace
As petty clock sits upon its place!

“Stop!” I yell, “Stop that terrible grate!”
“Cease that knocking that souls of Hell create!”
So knocking stops as I silently wait
For such knocking is filled with hate.

I fell upon this horrid home with spite
Asking only for some light
Only for some light to rid the night
But burden came to my sight

As cold as Death had gripped my spine
Upon the floor a figure I could not define
But jewels that caught me quite divine
So to thievery I did decline

Little had my senses seen
As alcohol had stripped their keen
A child watching of only teen
Had turned and run from the scene

“Murder!” he screamed and ran in fear
But no echo could reach an ear
“No murder boy! Can’t you hear?”
Senseless seemed my screams so clear

I’ll be killed, I thought, with no trial to be held
For this crime I’ll not be expelled
If murder boy want then I am quite compelled
“Run boy, run!” I wretchedly yelled.

My feet came to halt as corridor did end
And smiles came as the boy tried to defend
No intention had I to make amend
And with my hands I portend

Ringing breath from his neck
I forced all fury from my trek
For here I came a simple fleck

So now the souls of Hell do knock
Berating me as I try to walk
Upon the floor they’re there to mock

As light I’ve found in sweet November
Burning dimly in an ember



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Hope you enjoyed it. Comments, opinions, etc are nice.