The Night (poem)

A storm, do i not only hear or see,
But feel to the very depth of my senses.
To the frightning sound of thunder,
Here i shudder to the loathful mutter,
of the dense and darkened clouds.

The dew keeps pouring,
As i beg myself,imploring,
To fall asleep.
But what an awful, horrorful, despicable fright!
When the lightning flashed before my sight,
With the wind rushing in the night,
Dark and dense I say the clouds were,
grotesquely moving.

Oh! How i dread the thought!
As i lay in my bed,
Fired with horrendous thoughts,
When the loathful lightning striked again,
It revealed the stalker near my bed!

By Charbel (Randler Wolf)