Forced Maturity
Haunted houses belong
In carnival tents
Dressed in red
Shadows up ahead
.
A butcher’s basement
Fog machines hiss
Slabs of raw flesh
Bulge through the mesh
.
Scratch this idea.
Let’s make it clear:
My haunted house
Is far from here
.
My haunted house
Tucked in a cul de sac
An average neighbourhood
Easy to overlook
.
A puppet on strings
I hang by a thread
Cling to the whispers
Of things they’ve said
.
The curtain of false security
Drops almost instantly
A safe haven
Is not as it seems
.
My haunted house
Gathers its victims
Snatches their youth
‘Keep yourself hidden’
.
Mother and father
Husband and wife
Cursed with a child
Resent its life
.
I creep downstairs
The floorboards scream
Holding my breath
Sole lingers above
The very last step
.
Eyes down
No smiling
Don’t frown
.
Too late now
.