The Midnight Walk (a poem).
It’s past midnight, and am not sleepy.
An Owl shrieks just outside the window.
Thriller of my doom divulges in a tortoise pace,
Shadow! Cast me not away.
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The whirling sound from leafless trees, sends spine down my nerve;
As my blood evaporates from its vein.
It all seems like the devil in its evil regalia is on a midnight walk.
In the shackles and harrows of death,
My heart did freeze.
With the speed of light;
My fear rose.
The monster of my pains emerged with the sword of corruption,
Slowly he laughed with mockery written on his face.
With the sword, he stole my soul from its body.
Alas, at midnight my soul walked away.
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