A Glass Of Water

June 8, 2017
By Dikshant BRONZE, New Delhi, Other
Dikshant BRONZE, New Delhi, Other
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I drink two bottles of water right before dinner,
But my naughty little brain’s a bally old sinner.
As soon as I’m in bed and all ready to sleep,
It sends out these small teeny-tiny bleeps.
It tells me that I am thirsty.
I dearly beg for mercy.
But it orders me to get out of the cozy, warm bed.
And with heavy steps mixed with a feeling of dread,
I wander out of the security of my room
Into the dark staircase; I’m certain I’m doomed.
I descend down the steps to the doorsteps of hell,
Where men like me are slaughtered and monsters dwell.
I creep into the kitchen walking quiet and low
And scream out to the demons, asking them to show.
I scramble for the light switch, it’s nowhere to be seen.
Now that I think of it, it’s quite a hilarious scene.
I finally find it by feeling the walls,
and turn it on, happy to see the gracefully lit halls.
I take my hard-earned glass of water and stare at it for a while,
Then gulp it all down, my face spreading into a smile.
The water tastes like it has poured from the gates of heaven.
I then stand there and patiently count to seven
And let out a rewarding burp; I’m really quite pleased.
My thirst has been quenched and my stress has been eased.
But then comes the tricky part - getting back to bed.
As soon as I switch off the light I’m pretty sure I’ll be dead.
I run for my life, screaming as I dash,
Out of the blessed kitchen in a flash.
I sprint up the staircase, praying to God to keep me safe
So that I’ll be wealthy one day, and see my child’s face.
I feel the voices whispering into my ears, trying to pull me under,
And then I make a dreadful, dreary, inexcusable blunder.
I TRIP as I run, and lie wailing on the ground.
I try to get up to my feet but the floor is nowhere to be found.
I’m screaming my guts out, I’m scared out of my wits.
I have been scarred. I call it quits.
My mom wakes up and finds me fresh in the morning.
She screams as my startled dad comes in storming.
They stare at my unconscious self lying on the floor,
A foot and a half outside my bedroom door.
And they can only hope to imagine how I ended up there,
Because what happened that night was quite an embarrassing affair.

The author's comments:

I have always been scared of the dark, and it inspired me to write this poem, looking at my phobia from a comical angle. I am sure some of you will be able to relate to it and I hope it gives you a laugh.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!