In the dead of night, where shadows creep,
Lies a realm where the wicked dreams seep.
A place of dread, where nightmares dwell,
In the silent chasm of a moonless hell.
Whispers wind through the twisted trees,
Carrying secrets like a diseased breeze.
Eyes aglow with a fiendish gleam,
Watching, waiting, in the wicked dream.
The ground is soft with the ash of fears,
The air is thick with the scent of tears.
Spirits moan with a haunting theme,
Bound forever to the wicked dream.
A house stands alone, its walls alive,
With the souls it’s swallowed, none survive.
Its windows stare with a ghastly beam,
A beacon of horror in the wicked dream.
Corridors echo with ghostly calls,
Footsteps follow within these halls.
A laughter cruel, as if to deem,
All hope is lost in the wicked dream.
In the heart of darkness, a figure waits,
Its form obscured by the twisting fates.
It beckons you closer, with a gesture extreme,
To drown you deep in the wicked dream.
You run, you hide, but cannot flee,
The nightmare’s grasp is an endless sea.
Its tides pull you under, a relentless stream,
Sinking into the abyss of the wicked dream.
As dawn approaches, the darkness wanes,
The dream dissolves, only fear remains.
You wake in sweat, a silent scream,
Haunted forever by the wicked dream.
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