E l i z a beth

One by one our bodies moved into her frozen silent lair.
Smiles and laughter disappeared like the smog in the morning air.
Faces filled with dread sat in wooden seats so cold.
Once again we faced the ancient creature whose face played out her chiseled role.
Black as the night each strand of her hair kept its perfect place.
Lips painted like vampires blood move with a stoic pace.
Our names she called one by one, black eyes shifting up and down.
Shivers of fear rippled through each of our souls tightly bound.
Eyes roamed the room as her words penetrated the stale solemn air.
Minds failed to understand her scholarly chants so rare
Frozen fingers groped a tool to pen words in despair.
Yet sixty minutes later those words disappeared into thin air.
She stood tall before us as she read from a red text book.
Dressed in expensive attire her wrinkled face displayed a grimaced look.
Painted like a harlot were her long fingernails glazed in royal red.
Words of wisdom she unfolded to each small bewildered head.
X minus Y equals Z she repeated again and again.
Ears listened as if programed robots in her fiendish mathematical hand.
Who dare stand to ask a question and let her know we did not understand?
What soul would dare speak and be pierced with that wicked evil eye?
All  lips kept morbidly silent preferring instead to bleed and die.
E l i z a beth walks the halls in thousands of nightmares and memories still.
Waiting for just the right moment other young spirits and souls to kill.
Written by Sybil Shearin
Copyrighted
1-2010

This entry was posted on 230240H Jan 2011 and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.

Comments are closed.