Gulp down the sleep aid, eyeing the mirror,
waiting ‘til my throat feels a bit clearer.
Turn off the lights and watch as the darkness
loom overhead, but shadows are harmless.
Still, to my beliefs, I commit treason,
too fearful to think logic or reason.
For I know that my mind has made its choice,
one not to relax in or to rejoice,
but to haunt, taunt, and tempt the Night’s creature
who appears only when I fall deeper
within my bed. I lay weary my head,
to hope and pray I will soon become dead.
Barely breathing, far too cold to dream in
these sheets when the creature’s ghastly creeping.
Soon to catch its prey, long before the day,
when the light will come to scare it away.
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