One by one the creatures file in,
It's nighttime now,
Let the fun begin.
At first you lie there,
Almost asleep,
A single step,
On your floorboards they creep.
You look around,
Locating an object to go with the sound,
Then you see them,
On the ground,
You look for a way out but there all around.
There hair is thin and black,
There fingernails long,
They hum a dreadful tune to your very last song.
They slither up beside you,
You're blood begins to spill,
You're eyes roll into the back of your head,
The room falls into a dead silent chill.
The only thing that can be heard is the squealing as the creatures carry your body out of your room,
These creatures are real and they bring your doom.
YOU ARE READING
•Black is the night• (horror poetry)
ParanormalPoetry of the demented, not right in the head, this is for all the dreadful ones. And the evil. Pure evil.