Shadowland

"clang" says the clock as night turns to morn
when one still couldn't fall asleep
afraid of the things that await
alas, it is to no avail
the black embraces one in sleep
and drags one down to the other side
where desolation owns the victory
the land where branches of dead trees rise
like frail, desperate fingers to the woeful sky
the land of fright and fear, where hate and anger
infect one's mind like deadly bacteria
The burning embers in one's soul
shall once again become ignited
and the fiery inferno of hatred and depression
will engulf one's mind
and one will start to see things
and hear, and smell, and feel
but in this crate of fear's embrace
he shall rattle your faith and courage
in the shadowland he rules
The shadowland, with a full moon and no stars
the crows crowing,
the clock tick-tocking
as the sound of creaking floorboards
make one's eyes jolt back and forth
             to and fro
searching for something that isn't there
scrutinizing something that wasn't there
and ignoring those that exist
and blades of screams split the deadly silence
chased by a being of higher power
perhaps a lesser God
perhaps a neglected demon
perhaps the shadows of one's memories
out of the pan, and into the black fire
when one is at their brink
and they can't withstand any more
one closes their eyes
and snaps back to one's bedroom
with the soothing pitter-patter of rain against the windows
and the tick-tock of the bedside clock
and the plain old ceilings one stares at when night creeps in
and when one only thinks they're safe
the floorboards creak
and the crows crow
and inhuman screams split the air like blades splitting the silence
the fear crawls back and dominates the heart
As one realizes that shadowland is no difference from reality