The Greenbelt – Gothic Poetry

The Greenbelt by Matt Wall

I remember when I was young,

Constance was the girl I loved.

Into the greenbelt we used to play,

Rolling down its hills all day.

The canopy above us of leaves,

Covered the sky from surrounding trees.

And down the greenbelt at the end of the hill,

Was an opening in the ground with darkness its fill.

Constance and I, that was our secret place,

Down in the hole through cobweb lace.

A candle flame brought to our eyes,

Rats sharing cadavers with flies.

Constance and I would hold each other and sit,

Blew out our candle and then we would kiss.

Until one day we heard something odd,

Coming from a tunnel past the ground of mud.

The noise we heard was the laughter of a child,

Days in a row we heard that laughter of a child.

It sounded like a little girl,

A happy, playful, little girl.

This made Constance very intrigued,

So wondered through the tunnels were we.

Some of the tunnels were so tall,

Others though, we had to crawl.

Listening, following, keeping the candle lit,

Wondered so long, almost ran out of wick.

I wasn’t sure if we’d find our way back,

But for the little child Constance wanted to track.

We finally came across a clue,

A bloody shovel I hit with my shoe!

I knew now something would come our way,

I did not want Constance to stay.

“Come the voice is louder,” she said,

And a worrisome fear whirled in my head.

A few feet away the child now was,

Our curious journey almost over it was.

I saw the little blonde girl holding the hand,

Of a pair of legs that belonged to a man.

The child’s laughter, Constance’s screams, pain in my heart felt,

We lost the glow of the candle’s flame and never left the greenbelt.

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