This Curse

We are in the midst of theSpookiest,Spine-Chilliest,Eeriest,Ghostliest,Halloween Seasonthat I can remember.So,it is time to reprise anotherScary Poemfor your reading pleasure.It is calledThis Cursewhich I turned into a song back in my heyday as aMusician.Me,as aMusician.Not alone should scare you to death. This Curse
I run to the closet,hoping to find security.I push thru the crowd,not wanting to stand in line.Looking into the mirror,I see what is standing there.Cold icicles for a frosty spine.
A blanketed expression,covered with just a stare.Cheerless eyes,look back into mine.They say something,But I cannot perceive the line.Why why,
why?
Random impressions,run thru my mind.An impression,forms on your mind.Transfusion to confusion.My mind,is in a cloud.
When the smoke does clear,will I understand this life?For what is,this life?If not to try to clear the smoke,depression from your mind.The poem's a joke,it does have few rhythms!

This is,
Written By My Brother,
Alan Hauenstein,

And,

“Music sounds different to the one who plays it. It is the musician's curse.”
- Patrick Rothfuss -
That is his poem and I am sticking to it!
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