At night they come
The demons of my mind
No use to try and run
Demons of the
subconscious kind
Haunting me
Taunting me
I’m not sure what
they’re wanting of me
Can’t seem to escape
If only I could get to a
dream state
Maybe then the demons
would wait
I’m not even sure
these demons exist
I think it just maybe
me and my wit
At night I seem at
peace with in myself
Asleep I would miss such a good feeling to be
felt
I just like the night
hours
Walking down the
streets alone
Even still are the scent of the flowers
Not even the trees
move by the wind that is blown
Like an
The dark foggy nights
Of edgar allen poe rantings
Or a Alfred hitchock fright
All these things born
from the dark
Spooky little
delights