"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear, is fear of the unknown" - H. P. Lovecraft
"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself"
- Franklin Delano Roosevelt
The clock strikes midnight with ease,
A sound echoes in my head, like a tease,
It keeps chanting the same word,
A word unknown, but one to burn my world.
Then suddenly silence takes over again,
Leave for the owls, and outside: a man.
The wind howls through the creaks of the wall,
The house becoming full like a crowded mall.
The strange fog occupied every inch,
As though it was summoned by a witch,
I woke up to see a terrible yet familiar sight,
The man with rotten flesh, staring at me at night.
The clock strikes midnight yet again,
The best option was if I just ran,
That unholy word I heard in my head,
I've seen it in a book I've recently just read.
The man starts creeping down the corridor,
With each step, closing in on my bedroom door
I wanted to run, but just could not move,
As if it wanted something for me to prove.
Prove that I felt alone: is it better now you fool?
You have your company now, a bit cruel,
The thing with rotten flesh, chasing me down,
That's it, the end, this is how it ends now.
Yet again, for one last time it's midnight,
The man still creeping, chasing me down,
This time I try to hide in the attic,
But it does not give up, it is manic.
I hear wood creaking beneath his heavy feet,
That's more important than how I feel,
He's getting closer, I feel my impending doom,
Yet what that thing is, I do not know.
I hear that word for one last time,
Still so strange, but it's meaning is die.
I guess that's what feeling alone rewards you,
Death by cosmic force, eternally damning you.
