He stalks a sleeping man
Though he says he is not mad.
He fears an eye as a cat fears a dog,
And believes himself not mad.
He killed the man, now the eye opens no more.
Then he buried he mangled body under planks of wood.
He hides nothing from police
They come in and chat and chat, and chat…
And they do not hear it.
The sound a terrible sound,
A sound which drove him to confession.
It is the old man, his heart still beats!
But alas, it was only the beating of his own.
And after all this he still thinks he is not mad. Do you?
Kelly Curiel
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-response-to-the-tell-tale-heart/
