Terror

• Eshan Yadav, Grade 6
• Poetry
• 2009

Gothic purple and the gloomy blue.
When I think of it my dreams begin a hue.
The envious green toxin runs through my mouth,
No better than crunchy gooey cranes from the south!
Once you smell the nauseating scent,
Intense horror starts to burn your nostrils like a dent.
Monstrous fangs are all I see.
It lurks in my mind as a curse in me!
Was that a piercing scream from hell?
Or was that a sinister spirit who rang my bell?
Oh, the agony melts my dreams and sleep!
Why, oh why, is the terror in me making me weep?