Black.
Black is like the shadow spread across the vicious bed monster face,
Leaving the little girl in chills before she disappeared without a trace.
Black is like the dark old attic the the little girl feared,
Still,
She entered it,
Not knowing the end was near.
Black as the darkness that pieced through her room,
When a witch carried away the little girl on her broom.
Halloween night.
Don't we all love the fright,
Of seeing ghost and ghouls all throughout the night.
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 7:06 PM UTC
Black.
Black is like the shadow spread across the vicious bed monster face,
Leaving the little girl in chills before she disappeared without a trace.
Black is like the dark old attic the the little girl feared,
Still,
She entered it,
Not knowing the end was near.
Black as the darkness that pieced through her room,
When a witch carried away the little girl on her broom.
Halloween night.
Don't we all love the fright,
Of seeing ghost and ghouls all throughout the night.
This is a little quick poem I wrote on halloween to get in the spoopy mood.
