It's cold,
So very cold.
As I lay here on my bed,
The air holds a terrifying dread.
I hear nothing,
I see nothing.
The only feeling I have is this bed,
Hoping to sleep like the dead.
It's the most terrifying thing to ever exist.
The dread hangs like a heavy mist.
I can feel the dark touch me,
Crawl along my back and cling.
So dark, so cold.
So terrifying, a fear that never grows old.
So different than what you were told,
It's the true feeling of being alone.