A sickly reaction,
That causes some caution.
Where brains have snapped like twigs.
A death as sweet as a fig.

In the hollow night,
Where the true terrors hide in plain sight.
A gripping despair,
With the inner monster appearing in the mirror.

A devilish figure,
With fingers sharper,
Than the sickle of the grim reaper.

As it draws closer.
Flowers wither.
As it draws closer.
Ready to devour my fear.
That to him is a gravy type flavour.

As I stare into its bottomless abyss for eyes.
I hear other souls that have been consumed cry.
As I stare into those dismal eyes.
I know I can’t escape.
For it’s presence leaves me paralyzed.

With a breath that blankets me,
In a cold embrace.
As its shadow slowly consumes me.
My last thought lingers inside my happy place.