"Return to the House of Usher"

Your feet walk, foot over foot, down the path.

Towards, predeterminded fear.

You want to turn back.

But can't,

As much as you want to.

You know what is over the bend

And you dread it with evrey nerve in your body.

The thing most purly terrifying,

that you wish you could face.

So simple in stature,

You know what it really is.

But, you are afraid anyway.

It is the shadow of something in your room,

Something in the day so friendly, in the night so fearful.

When ever you see it,

It like a spell, forces you into fear.

making you retreat under your cover covered in cold sweat.

Your house of nightmares.

The House of Usher.

It is something like every other,

but something, something about this generic face causes your gravest thoughts to jump out at you,

Biting your sanity to pieces.

Nearing the top of the hill snaps you back from your deep thoughts as you realise your mind was wandering,

Then you set your eyes on this terrifying sight.

Your feet are cement blocks in quicksand quickly pulling into your fear.

Then you struggle to move your feet,

Inch by inch, you slowly make progress.

Thoughts are rushing through your mind like cold water,

Flooding your head like a chipping water glass ready to burst.

Cold sweat the condensation to the glass that is your body,

The approaching doom thuds against the ground with heavy leaden feet.

The glass, the ground and your mind about to break seemingly hold their breath, waiting...

As you step onto the doorstep of this wretched prison.

You take a few more steps straining your mind further.

You turn around and look through the door,

Fear disapearing forever.

You have conquered the House of Usher...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was my homage to Edgar Allen Poe's "The Fall of the House of Usher".

This wasn't really a poem I was just trying enjabment.

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The town sat in decay,

The small buildings once proud.

Rotted, time faded away.

The sign in front, "No Hope Aloud!"

The sky turned dark blue,

as the white moon trudged on.

The smog turned sky, a gahstly hue.

Hung in the air over Cemetary Lawn.

Outside the town sat a small clump of trees.

Sad looking were theese, to tired to sway,

From the slow broken breeze.

As they shivered away.

Up high in their branches, sat a nest.

Home to the heart of the town.

He who sat there had strayed from the rest.

Who's spirit was high and never came down.

The only sound, the implore of the tired old lore.

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore"...


Author's Notes/Comments: 

This piece is my homage to Edgar Allen Poe featuring his Raven.

This poem is about giving up hope on something you love.

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