The Dark

Something creeps, unseen and unheard.

It lurks in the corner, not saying a word.

Maybe it’s waiting, biding it’s time.

Or maybe there is no reason or even no rhyme.

Blankly it sits, emotionless air.

What is it? What are you? Why are you there?

The dark does not speak, react or reply.

It simply exists, alone, and unable to die.

But wait, something is stirring.

Deep inside, the dark is whirring.

Silent movement, it leaves its place.

A discovery is made; the dark has a face.

Teeth not human, eyes glowing white.

Blood on its mind, eager for the fight.

It’s right there behind you, but you mustn’t scream.

The dark has chosen you, and this is not a dream.

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