A Haunted House

"A Haunted House"
A poem by Felatia Allday
There is a house on Bristle Lane where the light is no more,
Where it is said there is much dread a soul is at the door.
The silence and peace are never still for the rustling in the place,
Where no one shall neither rest nor peace remains; a preachers true disgrace.
The spirit of life here did pass by; never to enter into the sky,
For dying violent beyond the realm of any's wondering eye.
The true desire of this place is to remain the Godless disgrace,
For the wicked soul which roams its halls will always leave the trace.
Its job is to terrorize, to live within the much disguised,
To be true or cause another's demise,
For it's in this comfort place where the spirit shall be feared,
It shall live beyond; the whisperings of its cruel peers.
For the rumors and the stories told,
Are the legends in this house of old?
To keep the shadows looming large; I've heard,
It's the whisperings of Innocence; the child's word.
To keep alive such wickedness, beyond the breathing house which lives,
The Spirit will never be at rest until the Godly gives.
The House on Bristle Lane shall be forever possessed,
With the spirits of the suicide or the violently deceased to never regret.
Until there be the rapture of the promised Son of Peace,
Until that time they shall roam deceased but ne'er released.

Author: Felatia Allday