The Ghost.

bang goes the door
poof goes the smoke
your startled, and cuss loudly 
and then regret having spoke

the ghost doesn't like it
he doesn't approve you see
cussing irks him 
and now you will pay 

you hairs all stand up 
soldiers of fear 
while your breath starts to tremble 
and you feel a cold mist in your ear

the ghost glares at you 
eyes aflame 
with a type of hatred we shall never name 

because none of us 
have lived to explain.