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The old house creaked and groaned,

Rusted nails and floor boards moaned,

A drafty attic where I sit alone.

There I sit and think of how to atone.

~

One act in life and everything changed

One hand outstretched and the world rearranged

Take it back?  My angry arm?

Of course I would, I would do no harm.

~

Too late, the netting cast,

On the floor she breathed her last.

There, in the kitchen on the tile,

Her bloody face split in an eerie smile.

~

So there she lays and here I sit,

Among the lost and forgotten bits,

A murderer, a soul bathed red,

By my hand the dear lady lays dead.

~

One moment of nagging that was just too much,

One word tipping the scales and moved the crutch.

~

But, oh, I can’t wail foul!

Her words have ended

While mine continue even now

Fate I have bended.

~

Though her breath no longer passes lips

Into my mind her whisper slips,

To make it right and all the same

The only way is to open a vein.

~

Other poems of a creepy nature by me:

http://www.authspot.com/Poetry/The-Magician.706305

http://www.authspot.com/Poetry/The-Song-of-Morning-Star.592003