My one and only Halloween poem. Happy Halloween!
© W. Scott Grant
October 30, 1999 2:30 pm
Why do they run when I ask for help?
Please, someone, I want to go home.
My voice is but a hollow whisper
Along dark halls, I silently roam.
As you gather ‘round the dinner table
Holding your hands, heads bowed deep in prayer
I can smell the freshly cooked meal
Oh, I wish I could join you there.
But I’m trapped here at the top of the stairs
Murdered by a man who was twice my size
I cry and moan and rattle my chains
And wish that I would be exorcized.