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.