Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

There once was a woman  Who woke up groggy She stumbled out of bed Looked in the mirror And noticed, in shock A worm crawling out of her head It was white and plump A vile thing indeed That no lady should ever see She tried to fish the worm out Of her poor, red ear But it crawled deep as it could be To the doctor she went He peered inside  But nothing could be found Then she heard a voice From inside her head "You really are mentally unsound" Who said that!? She cried The doctor looked around There is no one else here m'am She shook off this feeling Of fear and paranoia And boarded home on the tram As she looked at her reflection In the dark train window A voice said "You're so sickly pale" She stammered, and passengers looked Yet she heard the voice say "No wonder you're bound to fail" In terror, she fled back home Locked herself in the room And cried a deep moan "You're sad and pathetic Everyone thinks you're weird And surely you...

In the sky there hangs a white crescent moon, It shines bright on the big city below. I'm all alone, but I won't be soon, The ghost in the night, she comes and she goes. I hear her in the kitchen brewing tea, And then she comes to my bedside and stares. I feel her dark eyes piercing straight through me, In the dark, her face is ghastly and pale. She's haunting me yet I do not feel scared, There's something familiar about her stance. I'd reach out and talk to her if I dared, I'd ask her out for a midnight slow dance. The ghost lady is my past self, you see, It's me being terrified of what I can be.

They say deep in the forest On every Halloween Comes alive an evil woman The worst the world has seen They say she has black eyes Nails painted burgundy Skin as pale as moonlight Hair long and feathery Drunken men lost at midnight With no place else to go Are baffled by her beauty And court the fateful beau She strikes right at the neck That’s where men are weakest They have no chance to yell Her mercy is the bleakest Who knew that such a beauty With pretty straight cut bangs Could open such an awful mouth With such remorseless fangs? The men are but her supper She rolls them in a cocoon They glisten like sad slugs Their bodies shining from the moon The black widow has claimed the lives Of more than thirty men No one has ever caught her As she hides deep in her den Sometimes she walks among us The pretty lady with the smile No one even suspects her To be a fiend so vile No one even look...