Through eighteen glass sqaures
lined with lead-
The outside world
A spiders view.
Half a window here,
another half there,
Top side of porch,
and a section of bare wall.
Behind the faces,
those stone shaped faces,
all is not what it seems.
Hidden from view,
a sometime shadow,
a movement of curtain,
a scream at 2am.
Death of the neigbour,
it's all too quiet.

Not Long Left

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-where-i-sit/