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The Ghost
He walked down the hallway every night
Tapping on the wooden wall
Creaking at his every step
Making sure he would not fall.
His voice rang heavy and rough
Making himself clear
For whatever he was saying
Sounded like he did not want you here.
His fearsome figure could be seen sometimes
Standing by the door
Like a hovering shadow
That did not dare touch the floor.
His face was so beautiful
For such a shallow host
It's too bad he's dead already
And became nothing but a ghost.
- by II j u n i a r t II |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 12/18/2008 |
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- Title: The Ghost
- Artist: II j u n i a r t II
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Description:
This is a poem I wrote for my wild imaginations...about ghosts
Personally, I haaaate ghosts
but talking about them is fun...so i made a poem
dedicated to all ghosts (ehe) - Date: 12/18/2008
- Tags: ghost host beautiful imagination figure
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