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It was driving me nuts.
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Keeping me awake.
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That damn tree branch scraping at our bedroom window.
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I shifted to my side slowly, trying to avoid waking my wife.
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I sighed and shifted again, trying to get back to sleep.
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"We really need to trim that tree," I muttered.
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"The gardener did it last week," she mumbled sleepily to me.
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YOU ARE READING
My Dark Poems
PoetryTitle says it all. - They are not all dark, either. - And there is a few scary stories I found. Note: None of this is like, personal, or true, I convert my anger and depression into these poems. Some have meaning, others don't. Also there is a slig...
