Not The Wind
Your body filled with a dreadful chill,
Started at your table, and the white old quill.
Windy night, the quill moved mild,
You grew to become the switch, searching for mild.
No light came, the bulb became useless,
Your idea of going again to the mattress.
Suddenly noticed, quill moved slight,
You approached, with all your might.
Not the wind, window turned into closed,
Heart raced, a message exposed.
You study in horror, ink become pink,
“Not the wind, pass lower back to bed!”
That feeling like you’re all by myself,
They’re all long gone, you seize your smartphone.
Quickly scrolling via your list,
The phone is bleeding down your wrist.
You carry the smartphone to your ear,
Low sad voice, you begin to listen.
Voice whispers, don’t look lower back,
You slowly look, it’s all black.
Dropped the smartphone, as you run,
You fall over, a bloody gun.
In your pocket, you pay attention a hoop,
You reach in, you experience a sting.
Poison hits you, right away,
It is clear, you are the prey.
You look back, they lay by myself,
Holding on, to their cellphone.
Woke one night, with a cache,
Hair was soaked, pillow stain.
There became nothing I ought to listen,
A human shadow did appear.
Slowly crept out of bed,
Stunned I stood, as I bled.
Could now not hear the dripping sound,
As my blood, soaked the floor.
Could not move, I was engrossed,
As I stared at the ghost.
He changed into missing his proper ear,
There’s a ghost in my room,
And a Witch on a brush,
Vampires underneath my mattress,
A headless monster in the shed.
All these characters are pretty scary,
The Werewolf could be very bushy,
They constantly seem to seem at night time,
To protect me, I want a Knight.
Which one do I worry about the most?
It’s gotta be that unpleasant ghost,
Always on foot without ahead,
He calls himself, Mr. Fred.