A Ghost story

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Deep in the New England woods?A crumbling white school house sits waiting?For time to wash it away?Hidden in the forest?Like ghosts are in its walls??Poetry runs wild here,?An impish creature,?That tumbles down the hill?Sparkles on the snow, ?Drips from a weeping willow like tears, ?And winks from its perch in the trees?Coyly inviting me in??The house tells ghost stories?In funny creepy ways?With the creaks in the floorboards?And the scuffs on the stairs?And a faint echo of laughter ?Swimming through the hot, balmy, twilight,?But mostly in the black, shiny eyes?Of the girls in the photos on the wall??Once upon a time?Their blood ran fast and hot?Like mine does where I stand?And the world lay on their shoulders,?Heavy, like it rests on mine?And there were scars on their bodies?And thoughts in their heads?And a bright, blazing sun in their eyes?The only figure they could make out?In the distant future full of promises
Transplanted, now, with the cold glow of the admissions office fluorescents?? The floor doesn't groan anymore?When they run, love letters flailing in their hands?And the doors no longer squeal?When they sneak out in the dead of night?Today they weigh no more ?Than the breath in a single word?Or the care in a passing glance?Have no more significance?Than a flutter of my eyelids?Or the sound of my heart knocking on the wall of my chest
But I can’t help it- my hands grip the sheet
When the footsteps get louder and faster.
Suddenly, they stop-drowned out
By my blood curdling scream,
Ripping and shredding its way through the night





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