There are witches in my closet,
Shadows dance across the wall.
  Then there's that dripping faucet,
The scariest of all.

Bracnches scratching at my window,
Wind whistling through the door,
And that drip- drip- dripping,
I can't take it anymore!

The kitchen floors like slimy ice,
As I stumble across it.
I get myself a drink first,
Then I stop that evil faucet.

I jump back into bed,
Pulling the covers to my cheek.
I'm about to fall asleep,
When the house begins to creek.

Underneath my bed is a horrible creature,
Wanting to eat my face.
You'd you think the noise would bother HIM
But that's just not the case.

Oh, the visions haunting me,
When I try to go to bed.
I tried to tell Mother,
But she says it's in my head.

She says that nothing's there at night,
That's not there in the day.
I don't care if they're there or not.
I just wish they'd go away!


I'm always scared and lonely,
In the middle of the night.
I know these things can't hurt me.
But, then again,they might.

              --T.F. Ragsdale