Spine

In the hollow of the night, where shadows writhe and creep,

There lies a tale of terror that awakens those who sleep.

A whisper in the darkness, a shiver down the spine,

A haunting specter's presence, a chill that's not benign.

Through corridors of memory, where echoes softly tread,

Lurks the essence of a nightmare, its tendrils widely spread.

The spine, a winding stairway, where fear ascends and grows,

Each step a hesitation, where dread and wonder flows.

In moonlit gloom, where a secrets bloom, and specters softly sigh,

The spine of dread unravels, beneath the midnight sky.