By Lanaia Lee

Living alone I sometimes feel uneasy
About unusual things I hear and see
Sometimes so afraid I feel queasy
Especially the things I witness and see.

This old weather beaten wood frame house
Holds all kind of emotions within it’s walls
Sometimes in this place I feel as timid as a mouse
I even hear voices sometimes call.

Cold and damp the stagnate air feels
As I am witness to unspeakable things
It’s as if this old house posses a will
To hold on to evil diabolical things.

It’s like all the energy to be generated here is bad
I feel the evil as it tries to consume my very soul
This ghastly place will eventually drive me mad
Seeming this the house’s primary goal.

Some way some how I have to leave this place
Before its goal is achieved
For me to see insanity’s face
I must get away and leave.