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

My fear I don’t feel, only a silent thought.

I must finish my writings. I hurry my quill.

Every morning They shrink away with ...