Speak

Below the Stairs

Wooden chair

Not so stable

I sit there

Staring at the table

Grandfather clock chiming

I wasnt able

To find silver lining

In the family labeled

The wall paper is peeling

Mold seethes through the air

I have a bad feeling

Of what's below the stairs

Standing, I shake

Setting aside my silverware

Something breaks

The silence by a hair

As I make my way down

The rickety, chipped stairs

In darkness I drown

A sign to beware

A hoarders mess

Fills the basement

I cry in distress

As I hit the pavement

A rope on my neck

So smoothly blatant

Sleeping at the lack

Of oxygen, I'm complacent