Life From The Point Of View Of A Ghost

Life From The Point Of View Of A Ghost

She moved stealthily, stepping ever so delicately,

Through the eerie halls,

Through the ancient, dilapidated castle.

She enjoyed the blasphemous music,

Sung by the pelting rain and noisy sleet.

The horrendous winds rattling the window panes,

Sounding like the cackling of a demonic child.

Windows lit every now and then,

By blinding flashes of Blue silvery lightning.

She wanted to sleep,

Oh so badly!

She...