In the quiet of the night, they crawl,
Shadows lengthen, fears enthrall.
Eyes that gleam with secrets untold,
Monsters born from stories of old.

Beneath the bed, in closets tight,
They dwell unseen, away from light.
Their whispers weave through dreams so deep,
Stirring souls from slumber’s keep.

Each creak and groan, a silent scream,
Echoes of a child’s darkest dream.
They feed on fears, unseen, unheard,
Monsters thrive on every word.

Yet dawn will break, shadows will fade,
Light dispels the fears they’ve made.
But in the heart, a trace remains,
Of monsters born from night’s dark chains.