Dead Steps

A poem about a psychotic man who blames his neighbor's child for keeping him up at night.

Every night at witching hour
I hear a frightful tapping.
Atop my roof originates
That damned malicious rapping.

From dream to dream, I rise and wake,
Annoyed with want to end it.
I scurry to my window pane
With thoughts some fools contended.

My mind insists on telling me,
Now thinking for a while.
The noise is that of toddlers play.
My stubborn neighbor's child!

You fool! You let him out at night,
Disturbing all my keeping.
And let him play atop my roof
To rob me of my sleeping.

A lesson should be made from this
I’ll teach his dad sincerely.
Sleeping alone with peace of mind
Does not come by so freely...

The time has passed, the father's son
Has bid farewell to beating.
The Funeral has ended now,
So has my lack of dreaming.

I just can’t wait to go back home,
And rid my mind of madness.
At least I know that kid will never
Bring me long nights of sadness.

At home now I shall lay to rest
My action and its meaning.
Laying back I come to find
There are footprints on my ceiling...