From my window
I look down, look down,
At the iniquitous world spread out below me.
I look down, look down;
I see the curst world, but it doesn’t see me.
From my room
I look down, look down
At the caliginous night steeped in midnight tea.
I look down, look down;
I see the leaden darkness, but it doesn’t see me.
From my prison
I look down, look down,
At a haunting of ghosts, ghouls, and monstrous afreets.
I look down, look down;
I see all things vile and evil . . . and pray they don’t see me.
by WKT
Filed under: poetry Tagged: Afreet, creative writing, Dark poetry, Evil, Ghost, Ghoul, poetry, Prison
