The Horror of the Puca

In my mist of mind and madness, Pucas crawl the wall, Slipping, sliding, endless crying, a stage for horror all.

Their twisted forms contorted, In pain and in despair, their screams a symphony of madness, that echoes through the air.

My mind is draped in shadows, and the floor is slick with blood, as the Pucas writhe in agony, then drown in their own flood.

Their eyes are wild with terror, and their teeth are bared in fright, as they claw and scratch and bite, In a never-lasting fight.

Each Pucka weaves its story, of how it came to be, Some were born from broken dreams, and some from misery.

They have one thing in common, a thirst for pain and fear, they'll do anything to get it, no matter how severe.

In my mist of mind and madness, the Pucas rule supreme, and those who enter must beware, for it's a nightmare, not a dream.

This air now thick with madness, my darkness is their friend, as the Pucas slink and skulk, and plot my gruesome end.

They whisper secrets in the shadows, and giggle with delight, as they plan their next attack, on my unsuspecting plight.

My walls are alive with movement, as the Pucas crawl and climb, and in the midst of mind and madness, no escaping it’s just time.

For they will follow me to the ends of the earth, and haunt me in my dreams Until I’m lost in madness and the Pucas reign supreme.

So beware of this mist of mind and madness, and the horrors that lie within, For the Pucas, are always watching, Waiting for their next victim to begin.