By Katherine Hein

In a world where there is no definite end and no definite beginning,
I get lost in the woods of my own imagination.
Others will try to enter my Sherwood Forest
But my ghosts will keep them out.

A child’s toy sits in the corner of the room
Spinning and glowing by the power of its own will.
It is the memory of my child who will never see the light
Outside of my cursed womb.

Gates crash down to keep everyone in,
Trampling, torturing souls, psychotically insane from their own actions.
They will die while fighting to live.
Soon they will enter my forest and be my ghosts.

The vulture eye illuminated the room in a pale blue hue.
Though it seems dead, it lives in everyone who passes by.
It envelopes those whose curiosity
Will soon kill them in their sleep.

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One Response to “Sherwood Forest”


  1. […] Her work has appeared in Poetry and elsewhere. Read “Eden’s Nightmare” and “Sherwood Forest.” Rate this: Share this:TwitterFacebookStumbleUponRedditEmailPrintDiggLinkedInLike […]


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