Self Made Poetry 2

Set Free

Under the house came the faded sounds of scratching on wood.

Damp dirt and a dank smell hangs in the humid air.

A feeling of being stared at if you dare to venture down there.

Stories circulate about the history of this house.

Perhaps to scare away the unwanted.

Maybe a warning to spare their unsuspecting souls.

Something dwells here.

Deep in the shadows watching, waiting.

People moving in only to stay a few days.

Year after year.

Always the same.

Those who leave perceive it to be pure evil.

No one speaks of what they have seen.

Some victims deemed insane.

The new owner purchased it at auction.

"The deal of the century" he said.

"It's a steal" he boasts.

What he doesn't realize, his new home host's a unsettling history.

It brings death to many who come to reside here.

Appearances aren't always as they seem.

Long ago, so far back no one really knows when.

The strange activities began.

Scratching on the doors and floors.

The sound of walking up and down the stairs.

A heavy darkness that clings to the air.

Then the whispers start.

The rasping breath in your ear.

Urging you to look under the house.

Her spirit's trapped there.

The life they gave no regard to.

Her grave.

Yet she can't rest, her spirits distressed, and enraged.

She longs for her story to be told.

For her body to be found.

Only bones and a old vhs tape lay on the ground.

She was just a girl.

A orphan, ward of the state.

Brought here to stay.