The twisted woods enveloped,In lifeless gray haze,The night ever so motionless,An indomitable maze, Woody naked branches,And their distorted canopies,Dark flowers bleeding down,On leafless, dying trees. The forest floor rustling,Under chilling, voiceless screams,So realistically fictitious,Like sombre lucid dreams. Weirdly humid,But every breath so icy cold,Frostbite on our cotton cheeks,And fear manifold. The feeling of being watched,From…