Shadow

In the still of midnight's breath,

Where silence breeds the thoughts of death,

A shadow creeps, both thin and tall,

Its form unseen by most who call.

Beneath the moon's pale, ghostly light,

It slithers slow, a frightful sight,

Through wooded paths and empty streets,

Its presence chills the air it meets.

No footfall sounds, nor whispers stir,

Yet you can feel it drawing near,

A formless dread, a silent scream,

That shatters all that once was dream.

Its eyes are voids, deep, black, and cold,

They pierce the soul, corrupt the bold,

Its touch, a frost that burns the skin,

A harbinger of what's within.

For in its depths, despair resides,

A void where hope and light subside,

It seeks the hearts that dare to stray,

To feast on fears and lead astray.

So if you walk the night alone,

And hear a sound, a chilling moan,

Beware the dark, and keep your light,

The lurking shadow owns the night.