Читать книгу She Planted Her Own Flowers - Kathlene Suzan Sharpe - Страница 16

The walls still echo and bleed

Ungovernable voices eternally scream

Fog quietly fills the room until I cannot see

The murderer who is reaching out for me

Pacing back and forth, I'm not alone

Evil is all around and it won't let go

Trapped in that place of steel and stone

Fearful thoughts chase me all the way home

With a voice no louder than a whisper

The well-mannered pedophile pours my coffee

Society's nightmares graciously wait on me

Altogether fearful to be alone in the crowd

City sirens in a familiar town sound so loud

I cover my ears to drown them out

Lighter are my footsteps on the street

My vision permanently altered

By walls that still echo and bleed