The Knock at the Window Pane

Self worth as we perceive

The Knock at the Window Pane

In the darkness, I hear but a whistle from the wind

The gentle knocking on the window, causes me to look with disdain.

Who or what is knocking this late?

Who or what is disturbing my window pane?

With but a grunt and a bustle, I climb from my bed

Stumbling with a look of resentment upon my face

I make my way to the shadows of my room

As I scuffle and shuffle from place, to place

I see but a figure, staring through the glass

I can't make it out but scared I am not

The darkness only closes in more as I approach

The once cool night now turning hot

The temperature rising, now the figure becomes clear

The reddest eyes you will wish not to see

As I walk faster to my window, clear it will be

Separating what is closed of my curtains

I struggle to comprehend what it is that I see

What do I feel, what do I witness?

What is so clear staring back at me?

Clear it may be but confused is my mind

The darkness engulfs my room, my window

Never have I witnessed the making of such evil

As the shadow starts to grow

Approaching I was but now I am there

Opening the window to it's unruly smirk

I stutter and stumble over my words

Yet it knows not what I speak, its gangly dark lurk

Yes lurk is the word, as it hovels over me

Yet in this room it is not

Yet close almost inside of myself

It starts to grumble and spread like a blot

"What do you want?" I suddenly shout

Never afraid of the answer I so much have longed

In these moments that served to me a lifetime

I felt abandoned but alive and so very wronged

No answer it chose to give

Only that same smirk with the reddest eyes you will see

I know I say this like echoes in a cave

Yet it makes me feel like no words I have spoken before

I feel scared and violated but so very brave.

"What do you want?" I shout a little louder

No reaction, just disdain

The same feelings I had as I hovelled from my bed

Now intrigue and excitement is turning to pain.

Suddenly when I feel that all hope is lost

I see the crispness of its lips start to move

"Not what but who is what you should ask," It replied

"You have so much more to prove"

Reaching out to touch its hand

I suddenly began to shiver

No longer was there a shadow in my view

The truth of it made my skin quiver

Alone I was as I turned back to my bed

Only turning to touch my window pain

Alone again in my darkened room

Walking back to my bed with disdain

surreal poetry
Kayleigh Taylor
Kayleigh Taylor
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Kayleigh Taylor

I am an aspiring writer, with a love for writing the raw reality of love, romance, depression, marriage and sex. Both fact and fiction.

I like to write articles about taboo subjects, that leave a gateway for an open civilised debate.

See all posts by Kayleigh Taylor