Curse this wicked moonlit pen,
The witching hour draws close again.
With demons cackling in delight
And witches' brooms out in full flight,
Where does one find their rest and peace?
Under the covers.
And fast asleep.
But there an evil man doth prowl,
With claws so sharp and lips that howl.
He'll pull you in and while you dream,
Visions of children will be seen.
You try to run, but your feet stay glued
While your worst nightmare comes after you.
Born of a nun, his fathers insane
A child was birthed who fed upon pain.
So listen for blades, sharpened by hate,
Fit snug on a glove that will seal your fate.
One.
Two.
Guess who's coming for you...
Author notes
I don't usually rhyme like this, but I was bored at work and was inspired by the Nightmare on Elm Street series I had just finished watching :]
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