Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
The maniac is moving down Main. An umbrella raised, but there's no rain. The sun in distain, is laughing at his face. He shades the pain, from the human race. The maniac enters the store. The shoppers stop, and drop to the floor. They hear him sigh, and begin to cry. What did he even go there for? The maniac's at my window. I hide inside, and pray he'll go. He rattles on the pane, now there's a steady rain. But I tell myself Hell No. The maniac is in my head. He entered while i dreamt in bed. He'd found the hidden key, he entered quitely. The maniac is in my head.
0
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
The Maniac
The maniac is moving down Main. An umbrella raised, but there's no rain. The sun in distain, is laughing at his face. He shades the pain, from the human race. The maniac enters the store. The shoppers stop, and drop to the floor. They hear him sigh, and begin to cry. What did he even go there for? The maniac's at my window. I hide inside, and pray he'll go. He rattles on the pane, now there's a steady rain. But I tell myself Hell No. The maniac is in my head. He entered while i dreamt in bed. He'd found the hidden key, he entered quitely. The maniac is in my head.
dustin1840
Written by
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem