They creep slowly along the walls,
always there but only sometimes seen.
At night when you're tucked in bed,
they crawl out of their hiding places.
They poor from the closet.
Creep out from under the bed.
Their long tendrils swirl out and engulf,
anything in their path.
Long and ghost like,
short and demon like,
all the perfect resemblance of Satan.
They make the night grow cold,
make you shiver under your blanket.
The black flames of the night.
The cold forms of darkness.
They have no fears,
they make all yours.
A child's worst nightmare,
the shadows.