Your Wooden Room
Finally It Stood Still So I Could Tell Its Story, Yasaman Shayangogani
Do not give form to the demons on the floor.
Do not give way to the devils in the corner.
The shadows with vulgar speech that dwell shifting in each
hollow corner of my room
mock my sight and space, like thoughts fallen from grace;
bearing message of my doom, always breathing in my room.
With curses whispered quickly
I feel them stirring ever swiftly
Heating coals in my wooden room.
and I couldn’t help but assume
that something was coming soon
from the smell of sulphur coming
and a heightened deathly humming
all through my wooden room.
Then came a rattle on the ceiling
and an overwhelming horror feeling.
Nauseous and tense, the body readies,
and so my eyes steady.
Peering wide at the sight of my open room.
What came next I cannot bear.
A curse if I would share.
So to readers I should spare,
What became of my wooden room.
I should tell with full conviction,
with warning of affliction
that which visited my wooden room.
An entity so darkened
that if thought upon would harken,
and posses a mortal frame
to bring torture and tearing shame,
all through your wooden room.