Horror Poem

My first poem in a while.

When the devil comes a knocking, Knocking on your door, Hide away like you’ve done, So many times before. Bolt the latch and shut the windows, Snuff the candle glow, Hold your breath and pray he leaves, Before he comes to know. He has walked the road of sinners, With their ashes on his tongue, Whispering every heinous sin, Since time itself was young. You think he comes for others, Like the faithless or the wild, But the devil keeps a ledger, love, And your name is neatly fil

I am in the mirror, and the mirror is me. The longer I stare, the more I see her eyes, not mine. They shimmer a little too bright, like candlelight trapped under water. She tilts her head when I do, but there’s a pause: a heartbeat too long, too knowing. At night, when the house goes quiet, I hear her moving. Not from the hall. Not from my room. From inside the glass. Soft scraping, like nails, against the silvered surface. She whispers my name, slow and drawn out, as if tast

A Horror Poem Beneath the willow tree’s mourning veil, A child whispered, small and pale. “Grant me peace,” her soft voice pled, The branches sighed, the sky turned red. Leaves like tears began to fall, As roots crept close to heed her call. The ground hummed low, the air grew tight, Her shadow swayed in ghostly light. Now every dusk, the willow weeps, For what it keeps, and what it eats. By E. M. Page