Man At The End Of The Hall

Awakened every night, movement with a scream,
A man always pushes, his way in my dream.

Footsteps often heard, he never seems to stop,
I heard he fell, from the buildings top.

Once I looked in the hall, hoping for his sight,
A shadow figure greeted me, such a grim fright.

He continues to walk every night, doesn't he know he is dead,
Residents lock their doors, in their silent dread.

The dead can be so rude, why don't they get a life,
Oh, silly me, death is their strife.

I hope one day he leaves, may heaven grant his call,
The restless movement, by the man at the end of the hall.