The Haunting

From somewhere out ot the dark, you call to me.
Softly whispering my name.
Your voice is cold and unnatural,
Reaching into the depths of my mind;
Sending shivers down my spine.

I can feel your presence all around,
Surrounding me like a shroud.
The air is thick with an edge of fear,
For I know not what you are;
Or why you choose to haunt me so.

So many questions I have to ask,
And the answers I do seek.
Who are you and what do you want?
Why must I play your tormenting game?
For every night it is the same.

Tara Dalton 2002
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