These walls and this darkness that oppresses my soul
Instils in me fear I cannot hope to control.
From my family house, from this ornate prison,
A madness of spirit in me has arisen.
This haunted palace and its residents intwined
Through this curse that lingers on my family line.
Confined within this house, I can feel my heart seize
Filled with this wretched anxiety and unease.
Because of the sentience of all vegetable things,
My worries I cast through the sound of guitar strings.
I shall die in this prison of body and mind;
And as my senses sharpen I can feel my sense go blind.
I can feel the house around me, I can feel it pressing in
As I while away here my dying days within.
My sister and I wait alone here for our deaths to arrive;
In this oppressive house we feel entombed alive.
As my ailment strengthens and I lose all strength I had,
I begin to lose myself as I gradually begin to go mad.
This house produces in me a peculiar, fearful sensation
And morbid matters have become my singular fixation.
As I deteriorate, I cannot find a moment of rest;
Always I can feel the strain of panic in my chest.
An overwhelming hopelessness deep within my soul lies
And little time is left now before my beloved sister dies.
YOU ARE READING
Deterioration
PoetryA poem from the perspective of Roderick Usher shortly before the beginning of "The Fall of the House of Usher" by Edgar Allan Poe. Written for an English class creative assignment.
