The Horror of It.

I see my friend dimly lit in the hall.

I go to them, fighting to keep the anguish at bay.

Only adrenaline keeps me going,

And the terror that I know looms ahead.


Oh, the abject horror of it.

Furious eyes reflect back at me,

And threatening claws inch closer and closer.

I am paralyzed by the fiendish smirk

That spoke of a deep, unsettling pleasure.


There my friend lay by the shattered mirror,

And I ran from the terror.

A shadow of my past, that horror follows close behind.




*What is horror in poetry? This writing is an exploration of this question. Happy Halloween!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s