Was that a skeleton in my closet?A Poem by andrew mitchell
Was that a skeleton in my closet?
Climbing down the course, the winding Family Tree; I shook the branches. Finding... no treasures, no trinkets, no murders, no treachery to speak of... I thought how boring, but then again, such matters were hush hush of a time not spoken, or written. On the possible cover up; a creaking of a door, a scream in darkness, I heard rattling bones crawling on the floor.
© 2016 andrew mitchell
|
Stats
82 Views
1 Review Added on October 23, 2016 Last Updated on October 23, 2016 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..Writing
|