This Curse

We are in the midst of the

Spookiest,

Spine-Chilliest,

Eeriest,

Ghostliest,

Halloween Season

that I can remember.

So,

it is time to reprise a

Teenage Angts Poem

for your reading pleasure.

It is called

This Curse

which I turned into a song back in my heyday as a

Musician.

Me,

as a

Musician.

Now that alone should scare you to death.

This Curse

I run to the closet,

hoping to find security.

I push thru the crowd,

not wanting to stand in line.

Looking into the mirror,

I see what is standing there.

Cold icicles for a frosty spine.

A blanketed expression,

covered with just a stare.

Cheerless eyes,

look back into mine.

They say something,

But I cannot perceive the line.

Why why,
why?

Random impressions,

run thru my mind.

An impression,

forms on your mind.

Transfusion to confusion.

My mind,

is in a cloud.

When the smoke does clear,

will I understand this life?

For what is,

this life?

If not to try to clear the smoke,

depression from your mind.

The poem's a joke,

it does have few rhymes!

This is,
Written By My Brother,
Alan Hauenstein,

And,

“Music sounds different to the one who plays it. It is the musician's curse.”
- Patrick Rothfuss -

That is his poem and I am sticking to it!

Like what you reading?

Sign up as a Follower,

or Set up my Blog

as your Homepage

on your Web-browser,

or Leave a Comment,

or a Suggestion,

and I will answer you in a Post.

Thanks for reading.

If you are reading this on a

Cell-Phone,

below this story you will see a

Link

where it says;

View Web Version.

To truly get the full benefit of my

Blog,

I suggest you view the web version.

You will just have to expand the page to be able to read it.

Thanks again.