Old and infirm, from the world was hidden, Locked in; visited rarely, bed-ridden.

Darkly frozen, wheezing in shadows, Thrumming, fear pounding through her burning blood.

Ghostly whispers grow to roars in moonlight, It nears, creeping boards echo in the night.

Crying to her carer dreading the night, Deaf ears, ignoring fears of the hidden. Now left, writhing for mercy in moonlight, Frailty paralysed and bed-ridden.

Rising, gushing on the walls she sees blood, Gnarled hands, clawing talons scrape red shadows.

Beastly imps, spectres dance through bruised shadows,

Craters, hives on paper skin, scorching night. Shivering, soaked in neglected, thin blood, Oak doors rattle, unseen feet stomp hidden. Wrinkled hands tug sheets over eyes, bed-ridden, Marching demons invisible, moonlight.

Branches reach, grasping in the dank moonlight, Spreading like the demons, evil shadows.

Shaking, clustered, hidden and bed-ridden, Moonlight posing shadows across the night. Doors swing and bang, frail woman hidden, Hidden, bed-ridden and smothered in blood.

Reaper in the shadows, smells the grim blood, Spectre cracks the door, swings in the moonlight. Blankets fall, guided by a force hidden, Aging form, rising in eerie shadows. Sobbing, cries lost to the festering night, Peace soaks, no longer to be bed-ridden.

Living death, a prison world, bed-ridden, Cooling, slowing in her veins; dying blood. Relief spreads, spirits drift care-free this night, Bright light engulfs, swallowing the moonlight. Angelic souls, no demons in shadows, Lost fear, needless terror of worlds hidden.

No longer bed-ridden in the moonlight,

Dried blood, soul drifted into the shadows, Found after night, crumpled body hidden.