Witching Hour

Awakened, in the dead of night Seized by a feeling of fright I struggle to catch my breath My heart pounding in my chest Surely my thoughts are disillusioned Glimpsing a shadow translucent I say to myself with nervous snicker The drowsy mind is a trickster Over my head, I pull the blanket Suddenly something grabs my ankle Upright I sit in utter horror Praying I live to see tomorrow The sounds of scratching echoes A screeching laugh bellows The stench of rotting flesh lingers Down my arm moves icy fingers Have mercy on my worthless soul The clock chimes it's immortal toll The time of hour, I could foresee Every night at a quarter past three.