When descends the tortuous night
And demons kneel to prey,
No blanketed enclosure
May keep such fiends at bay.
Tormented by the fearsome one,
Urges turn to need,
Horn’d spectres gather round in dark
To suppurate and feed
On souls of those whose black despair
Shrouds burdens into gloom.
Malevolence lurks in corners
Of even brightest room.
Bleak despondence, this the scourge,
That eats at wholesome flesh,
Annihilates hope, once professed,
Spirits to enmesh
With such as those who haunt the night
Or day, if eclipse persists.
Light within reveals the way.
Only this resists.
scottishmomus 