What Am I?

A very interesting poem I wrote from the perspective of...something else.

Something haunts this place

I cannot put my finger on

Troubled these tired bones

Mists cover the setting sun

Knocks echo drips cascade

Reaching into sullen pores

Steaming musk hidden shade

Taunts thrush upon the door

Dare my eyes see the rush

Grinding cancer on my jaw

Nails grind along like crush

Back aching against the claw

Sleep holds no power here

A fear that does not retire

Buzzing noises seem everywhere

Years that gauge on the pyre

Into madness I must retrace

What seems out of touch

Time still outside this place

Something I miss so much

Sit here alone I only hide

What moves behind timbers

I the ghost always abide

The one who gives the shivers

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