Trapped In The Past
My home town is still dark and sombre.
The street where I lived still has one light.
The house I was brought up in was haunted,
which gave me nightmares every night.
Lately I’ve been feeling drawn to the place
even though I was pleased to escape.
Today it remains boarded up and empty
and I’m visiting for old times sake.
Both my parents saw out their lives here
and gave the other dwellers no mind.
They said they didn’t see or hear what I did
and didn’t believe in the ghostly kind.
That front door leads to hell-hole of misery,
every memory a pain in my mind.
I’m glad I don’t have to venture inside,
there’s nothing I want to find.
Through the nailed on boarding I’ve been taken.
It’s dark and the plaster on the walls is unsound.
The floorboards have rotted with woodworm,
and from the stairs come’s a creaking sound.
I can now hear talking in an upstairs bedroom,
which has brought a shudder down my spine.
Goose bumps on my flesh have tightened
and my feelings are the worst possible kind.
This place is rekindling unpleasant memories
and I didn’t really want to come this far.
In vain I’ve tried to get out, but I’m trapped again
with the ghosts that I lived with before.
poem by Orlando Belo
Added by Poetry Lover
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