In the dead of night
whispers can be heard
the whispers of long forgotten tales
the whispers of a reality that once was
a reality that all feared
for by nightfall
growls could be heard,
screams would resonate,
and by dawn,
red would stain the soil.
In the bright light of day
songs can be sung
the songs of remembered tales
the songs of a reality that never was
a reality that all wished for
for by daybreak
growls would no longer be heard
screams would dissipate
and by dawn
yes, by dawn,
remains would litter the earth
In the present day
stories can be told
the stories of imagined truths
the stories of truths once thought to be real
a truth that was neither true or false
for when before we wake
growls are heard
screams will echo
and if we opened our eyes
these monstrosities would be
everywhere throughout the day
forever haunting but never being