The Shadows in my room
They watch me write my stories at night
Lightning strikes outside from the storm
The will decide if I live or die, They are my fate
Their long arms reach out across my walls
Their fingers come to slit my throat
Their eerie screams, the echoing calls
No fear do I feel, only silent thoughts.
I must finish my writings. I hurry my quill.
Every morning They shrink away with the ...
