Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26456758-20150723214125

According to a lot of people, poetrypasta is tough to write, so I decided to challenge myself and write one. I'd love some feedback on it before posting it.

In my bedroom is where he waits. With sleepless eyes that flickers. I scream for help, the echo fades. He stares, he smiles, he snickers.

Maggots favor his rotten skin. They crawl along my floor. From his grave, they followed him. I've seen those eyes before.

In my bed, is where I lay. Wrapped in my cocoon of fear. A smell of death leads the way, As he lingers near.

I lay asleep, I hear him breathe. Hell is where he's from. I cry out loud, "it's just a dream." But, echoes, his evil hum.

It's been days! It's been weeks! Trapped in this dreadful room. Watch me suffer! Ignore my pleas! Await my inevitable doom.

In my box, forever in darkness. Is that what he wants? To see me silent, dead and lifeless. Is that why he haunts?

I awake to silent nights. Is the dead man still here? Darkness, bring my stolen light. His beating heart, I can hear.

The silence breaks, the bells had rung. They're calling from the gates. Forgive me, Lord, for all my wrong. I now know why he waits.

Oh Dear, God. What have I done? I know just what he wants. Revenge is near, I cannot run. I now know why he haunts.

His name is Jack, I knew him close. He died in '68. He's come back to take my soul. Revenge is why he waits. 