Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 17
Every dim-lit day,
There is a cracked window
That I pass on my way,
That emits a soft glow.

It's always in the corner of my eye
It's not my business though.
I'm sure you'd see the rain
In the season of the snow

As days to weeks,
And weeks to years,
As time makes me weak,
They begin to grow: fears

What could be inside,
That emits such a light?
I'd like to say it makes my eyes wide,
But that's simply not right

If I'd stop I would be late
To what is unknown,
And i don't wish to berate
Will I find a house of bones?

Something inviting
Something dreary
Something homely
Something weary

When lust for life is swelling
As my money collects with time
Soon that dwelling
Will be mine

Something inside senses change
And as if a slap to the face
The house begins something strange
It twists and contorts as if it isnt in the right place

The seething rage
Boils my blood
At the sight of this seeming cage
Walking by in my shoes stained in mud

Sometimes the light glows bright
Like a crackling fire in a cave,
Sometimes it isnt even in my sight
Right away at least. I still cant be brave

Enough to turn to look inside.
As I approach early in the night,
I see a "For Sale" sign and I stand, petrified,
Standing there, getting bumped, left and right

I finally have it,
Though I haven't looked in
And I can hardly sit
I have to find the room it is in

And sometime later, I give up
And realize I want more
Than what is in my cup.
I still feel poor

Yet I throw a party, something grand
Seven days too long
I sit in slump, hoping the band
Plays on

I sit alone but not in silence
I hear the light calling to me
As if to give me guidance
Reminding it all started from an apple tree

I follow it to a wall and smell
The scent of fire
And the sound of a bell
My dinner looks something dire

The wall it opened upon my return
It showed me something cursed
And so I let it burn.
I closed the door and it faded away at first

Then a few moments later, a fire burst
It blew away the wall like dust
As i ran from the house
Passerbys glanced at me with disgust

After fire crews diminished the flame
And the crackle of embers was all that's left
All that was left was the window frame.
While looking in, I watch the glow fade to death
Ian Robinson
Written by
Ian Robinson  17/M
     Elena, AS, BR Dragos and annh
Please log in to view and add comments on poems