EYES ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃᵇⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ (ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳ) ᵇʸ ʸᵒˡᵏʰᵉᵃᵈ ///ᵈⁱˢᵏʳᵒᵗ ˣ ᶠʳᵃᶜᵗᵃˡ

Shadows breathe against the wall,

Something stirs, but no one calls,

Every glance cuts through the night,

But the figure hides just out of sight.

You can’t escape, you can’t turn away,

It’s always watching, it wants you to stay.

A whisper crawls beneath the skin,

It waits to strike, it waits to grin,

Your heartbeat slows, your blood runs cold,

The corners hunger, taking hold.

The corners are watching, they’re drawing you in,

A presence of malice, a void draped in skin.

You’ll never be free, no matter the light,

The corners will claim you when day turns to night.

Its shape distorts, it shifts, it bends,

It stalks the silence that never ends,

Closer now, it dares to creep,

It thrives where terror learns to sleep.

Don’t blink, don’t breathe, don’t let it know,

The figure’s patience is cruel and slow.

You’ll beg for mercy, but none will come,

The corners are legion—you can’t outrun.

The air decays, the room turns black,

You know it waits behind your back,

Every step, it follows near,

It feeds upon your growing fear.

Always closer, never gone,

It has waited all along.

You thought you were safe, but shadows remain,

The corners remember, they whisper your name.

And when you are still, when silence is near—

The figure steps forward, and nothing is here.