The Chill

A chill down my spine
Nerves pricked with heavy caution,
I tell myself I'll be fine
Even through this eerie notion.
This house filled the dead man's walking
Walls who chimed of clocks so old,
As if This cursed I soul-a-stalking
Nothing of portraits did untold.
I paused; I breathe; I inhale so quick
Coldness creeping through this night,
I look; I wander; I speak:
"Hey who turned off the light?"
The moonlight shone a figure
One I didn't imagine,
Instead, I laugh and laugh at ease,
"Hey, is this what you call a Haunted Mansion?"
"No dear child
Be not in all delight,
Come here to me
Dearest shall see, what darkness we here tonight."
That hooded thing spoke
With a face I could not see,
All in all, I must not be provoked
It mustn't find the fear in me.
"I come in peace
Really, I mean no harm,
I'll just go, to say the least—
Back to my Papa's farm.
"Not tonight, sweet child
I too, need company,
Need you not go dear child
There's news thee soul to see."
Out I ran, in fear
Crashing on walls and chairs,
I'd rather die in bed than here—
So as scars with the least bit care.
I ran and ran
Trying to erase that memory,
But when I came home--- oh man,
That thing was there, waiting for me.
The vase on here corner
Was the closest I could reach,
Tried to very much sock her
Leaving life it's one last screech.
So now I weep in agony
To rise from dream's state,
Why did I kill savagely?—
Myself, the thing with news too late.