This poem is haunted
Don’t be afraid, it’s only words
Just ink on paper, it’s so absurd
If you’re reading by yourself
You should have kept it on the shelf
Do you feel that dreadful chill,
Now you know it’s for real
I’ll warn you now;
Don’t read this poem when you’re alone
What’s that sound, that low pitch groan?
Don’t read this poem;
Even on a dare
You never know
You could have a scare.
If only you knew
What was watching you
As you read from line to line
Fear and reality intertwine-
Yes they say this poem is haunted;
Maybe troubled, frightened, obsessed
I know, it could well be possessed.
Now don’t be alarmed and read too fast,
That strange feeling, it will not last
Take a breath and oh slow down,
But whatever YOU DO,
Whatever you do
DON'T TURN AROUND!
~Othen Donald Dale Cummings
Don’t be afraid, it’s only words
Just ink on paper, it’s so absurd
If you’re reading by yourself
You should have kept it on the shelf
Do you feel that dreadful chill,
Now you know it’s for real
I’ll warn you now;
Don’t read this poem when you’re alone
What’s that sound, that low pitch groan?
Don’t read this poem;
Even on a dare
You never know
You could have a scare.
If only you knew
What was watching you
As you read from line to line
Fear and reality intertwine-
Yes they say this poem is haunted;
Maybe troubled, frightened, obsessed
I know, it could well be possessed.
Now don’t be alarmed and read too fast,
That strange feeling, it will not last
Take a breath and oh slow down,
But whatever YOU DO,
Whatever you do
DON'T TURN AROUND!
~Othen Donald Dale Cummings
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