It Can Hear You.

In the shadows of the night, where the moon dares not to gleam,

Dwells a vile and twisted creature, one that smells your every dream.

It doesn't see you, nor can it touch you.

That isn't how it chooses to clutch you.

Its eyes are dark as pitch, its skin a pallid gray.

It stalks the minds of mortals, feeding on their thoughts every single day.

Its tongue, a slithering serpent, tastes the air with glee,

For every passing thought, a delectable delicacy.

It whispers through the darkness, chilling to the bone,

For no one can escape it, this creature made your clone.

In the silence of your heart, it hears your memories scream,

Each bitter recollection, a haunting, fearful theme.

It feasts upon your secret, your sorrow, and your fear,

It echoes through the darkness, ever closer, ever near.

Its touch is cold as ice, its breath a putrid stench,

It wraps itself around you, like a venomous, vile wench.

It devours every hope and joy, leaving naught but dread,

And with each stolen dream, its insidious hunger's fed.

So beware the creature lurking in the corners of your mind.

This beast that smells your dreams, your thoughts it seeks to bind.

For once it's found you, trembling, alone in the dark,

It will never let you go and forever leave its mark.