It’s Halloween, the witching hour,
when through the streets the ghouls will scour,
searching under dustbin lids
to feed their souls on wayward kids.
They wait in shadow-darkened streets,
and prey on those who trick or treat.
Though you may think it’s all pretend,
you’ll wish that soon this night would end.
They feel your fear and read your mind,
then seek you out, come from behind;
and as you sense them drawing near,
your body shakes with timeless fear.
You smell their breath in putrid rasps,
while gnarly digits reach to grasp;
and eerie chuckles leave their lips,
as youthful skin meets fingertips.
Then bit by bit and piece by piece,
they strip your flesh with razor teeth.
Although you’ll try to dodge its path,
you won’t escape their ghoulish wrath.
While locked within this ghastly theme,
no one will hear your stifled scream;
and as the gutters run blood red,
you’ll wish that soon you would be dead.