The Nightmare

The shadows stretched along the wall,
Like fingers reaching in the night.
A distant whisper filled the hall,
A voice too soft to sound quite right.

The mirrors showed a stranger’s face,
With hollow eyes and broken skin.
I tried to run, to leave the place,
But every door pulled me back in.

The floorboards groaned beneath my feet,
The darkness breathed behind the air.
And somewhere in the endless street,
A faceless figure stood and stared.

I woke with shaking hands at dawn,
Yet one cold truth remained in sight—
The nightmare wasn’t truly gone,
It followed me out of the night.