A Stormy Night

Writing by the red flickers
of the searing candle light.
I sit alone as I listen to the bickers
of the wind and the shy moon light.

The fierce winds that howl
Make the eerie glow
Seem somewhat foul,
As the fierce winds blow.

The howling grows more loud.
The wind begins to chill,
As the wind blows the bough.
I hear a scream that seems more shrill.

Suddenly the door creeps open.
The howling is unbearable.
I look for a weapon.
A knife lies upon the shaking table.

With a flick of the wrist
The door lets out a groan.
I give the knife a hard twist,
And I hear an awful moan.

What's this?
Lying in the threshold, a dead man!
From the quiet room gone is all the bliss.
The knife falls from my hand.

I can't believe,
I killed a man.
It's a hard concept to conceive,
that someone died by my own hand.