On a dark, dismal night in October’s demise.
When the stars were all hidden,
The moon was disguised.
From a fog as it rolled and the wind as it cried.
Like demons that stir up your fears

Where the ravens will scavenge
And talk about death.
And ghosts give opinions without any breath.
While haunting your future with present regrets.
Replacing what’s happy with tears

Our story unfolds in the black before dawn.
As devils and skeletons danced on his lawn.
With witches and pumpkins, and pentagrams drawn.
And a coffin propped up on a stand

Some webs hung in trees, huge spiders, and bats.
A fake guillotine and five giant rats.
A Mummy, a Werewolf, a red-eyed black cat,
And a madman with razorblade hands

It was four in the morning, I woke to a scream.
It cut through the darkness like cold-curdled cream.
Shocking my system with fear, so extreme.
I rushed to my window and then…

I saw a man’s body, his face, blazing white.
A look of stark horror, of evil, of fright.
A portrait of terror, (the devil’s delight)
He held up what looked like a pen.

I rushed out the front door and into the black.
Perhaps I could help with this stranger’s attack.
No thought for my safety or weapons, I lacked.
Then fear reared its miserable head.

For now, I knew truly, something’s not right.
The witches were missing, the rats, out of sight.
The monsters had vanished in shadows of night.
The man on the ground, clearly dead

He looked like somebody I saw on the news.
A friend of a devil, a dog to abuse.
A bone for a throat and a stake that’s been used.
Emotional vampire, in kind

He murdered a lover with something he wrote.
Shared her sad secrets and called it a quote.
Goodbye, my love! On a blue Post-It note.
Alone, she sucked into her mind.

And curious still was the mask that he wore,
Of “A Charming Young Man” from the Halloween store.
A jar for lost souls and the pain that we pour.
All liars will eventually bleed.

And so it is true from the clues you discern.
We find our revenge with the crosses we burn.
As fate rushes in, there are no lessons learned.
For death has the last word, indeed.

My mind was in panic, reality flipped
The long, bloody knife in my hand that I gripped
Yes, I may be the killer, my memory’s slipped
The dawn is fast-fading away

This body, this victim, this person I hate
Arrived on my lawn to discover his fate
Now mercilessly laid at the feet of hell’s gate
And there’s something more I need to say…

For the pen in his hand wrote a message in blood.
Confessing my guilt, in a note, was enough.
Beware of the monsters who speak about love.
Then kill you with words from their mouth.

So I ran back inside and I called the police.
They questioned my sanity; They said it was me.
Then gave me a pink padded room by the sea.
Now, I’m locked in my mind, looking out.

TM DiSarro

©2025 TM DiSarro/ MindScapes Publishing