220. August 8th
The gloom of dusk comes slowly on,
Bringing the night with it.
Though unlike the gloom of dawn,
There is no sun to follow.
Hideous shapes spring out of the shadows,
Toying with my fearful mind,
Toting with the weaknesses of others
And taking advantage of them.
The trees have behind each and every one
Vicious foxes and rabid deer,
All these things the night makes up,
Playing with my mind.
Despite the fact that only crickets
Are making any noise tonight,
My minds concocts for me an array
Of frightening, disgusting noises.
And though natural,
Creates unnatural, frightening experiences