Soft scents, small tendrils of it float in the air,
I can still feel grotesque fingers flow through my hair.
Every dream turns to a terror I see eyes so green and demented,
I never eat before I sleep as everything in my stomach turns fermented.
These night ghouls besiege me,
never letting me sleep peacefully.
Sometimes so real making me scream my way back,
they stalk me, each one keeping track.
Upon waking soft breeze blows through curtain giving me a slight fright,
and I think it’s gone now, and I send a silent thanks to those who make it right.