Waiting for the Break of DayWaiting for the break of day,
Not a word to hear or say.
Silence fills the empty walls:
Quiet omen softly calls.
Your nerves grow slowly tense and frayed;
You tell yourself don’t be afraid.
The omen whispers in your ear:
It’s loneliness that’s full of fear.
The eerie throb within your chest,
Although it’s late you cannot rest.
Behind your door the shadows sleep;
The endless vigil you must keep.
An echo haunts your every breath;
You smell the stench of rot and death.
There can be nothing quite so bleak...
You hear the door’s initial creak--