That one night,
I remember it well.
Tossing and turning,
Unable to wake up.
There was a constant ticking,
As if a clock was rushing the time I spent.
That ticking turned to a heartbeat,
Footsteps were heard throughout.
However, nothing was seen;
I heard voices, paranoia.
Crashing, booming, screaching of sounds.
Those sounds turned to pictures,
the pictures turned to people.
What's going on?
In my room again,
I woke up.
