Poetry

Beneath the moon's pale, haunting glow,

In the depths where shadows grow,

A chilling tale begins to weave,

A world where terrors never leave.

A graveyard whispers secrets dread,

The silence of the restless dead,

Mist curls around each ancient stone,

In the night, you're never alone.

From the depths of the abyss,

Echoes of the lost souls' hiss,

In the forest, dense and deep,

Horrors in their silence creep.

A phantom hand, a ghostly wail,

Through the darkest, twisted trail,

Eyes that pierce the soul with fright,

Evil lurking in the night.

Creaking floors and moaning doors,

Footsteps on the cold, dank floors,

A phantom figure in the hall,

Fear's icy fingers start to crawl.

In the attic, whispers grow,

Secrets from long, long ago,

Shadows dance in eerie rhyme,

In this nightmare, lost in time.

So, lock your doors, and dim the light,

Brace yourself for the endless night,

For in the realm of eerie dread,

Lurks the horror that lies ahead.