Is It Poetry
The Slender Man
To all my children
to my many liars in wait whom against me conspire.
She is gone and yea he has come in from the woods without face.
From his heart from the depths where its dark.
She was taken from you not long before dawn
high up above below the bright moon.
Empty beds cloudless night's, teeth filled mouths.
Bleeding a rose left wrapped around is gone come the morn.
At one point I should stop, why go on
the only thing left was a book filled with scraps of their dreams.
In his hard grip through each cave winds a red narrow stream.
Girls that are bad, boys that won't play
death feels like moist cotton open young eyes closed to threats.
Blank faces can't scream but yours can.
Painted purple walls all but white stay dark through the night.
Into my bedroom it came yesterday, tomorrow will never come.
The slender man is to some what she needs not.
Dark tall trees hanging down right side up from the top.
Flowers that smell inside of your mind only when deep in sleep.
Other children hang dead from the tree.
I originally thought nothing about it.
Stabbing me not once but over and over and now, he's gone.
Forgotten not by he are the snakes some have need to speak of
in and out of the moss leaf filled bushes.
The tall man is dressed as you see him in shadows black.
Out the window he stands in the star light in the clearing.
My sister beneath lying on top as the dark clouds roll in at midnight.
Long are his arms they have room for the many snakes and words,
as sharp as his sight soft boneless and tight and the worms
where you died live on through your primative fear of the night.
Is It Poetry's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Slender Man by Is It Poetry )
Did you read them?
Poem of the Day
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Morning, Paul Laurence Dunbar
- O Captain! My Captain!, Walt Whitman
- Television, Roald Dahl
- On the Ning Nang Nong, Spike Milligan
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
- Heather Burns
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(13 July 1793 – 20 May 1864)