The man with shadowy eyes
walks down to Seven Eleven
with a chill,
down his spine.

Step by step,
his pace quickens,
with the darkness in mind.
He looks back and forth,
to find,
paranoia,
has caught his eye.

A skull full of doubt
can shrivel the mind,
when a sense of horror,
creeps behind.

On and on he goes,
to the corner store,
he fly's,
to find nothing more
than lights,
to entertain his eyes.