Another for the Ghost Writer Series

Questions arise in the middle of the night
To answer them correctly I need insight
Soon the words come pouring out of the confusion
And you are reading the results of another illusion

Behind the Mask

Here I am again to present you with bouts of displaceable thoughts of fear
You'll toss and turn and cry instead of enjoying Christmas time cheer
Santa Claus is still at the North Pole getting ready for his nighttime run
And this post is written by me, the Boogieman , Ghost Writer's idea of fun

Some cry of Krampus coming into the house and leaving them scared
But he can only be seen by watching a movie and getting prepared
Much like that fat old man who you think is so damn cool and fun to let in
I can enter your mind at will and then the nightmares truly start to begin

The twelve days of Christmas has been a tradition to share through time
But no one likes talking about me when it's time to let my dark light shine 
That's right, there have always been thirteen nights celebrated in the past
This night is mine alone to frighten you as I take off my Santa Claus mask

I place a giant snowball heavily down on the center of your sleeping chest
In R.E.M. is where my games start to haunt you leaving your mind a mess
Sweat starts to form as you begin to toss and turn in this now livid dream
My nights job is to fulfill you with terrifying images forcing you to scream

You see the light at the end of the tunnel and believe it will set you free
As you get closer you find the light is dimming being replaced by me
Thirty Madagascar hissing cockroaches crawl across your sweating skin
Your blood pressure starts to rise when you realize that I'm in it to win

Rolling over you quickly look around only to further lose your mind
Your lying in a bed of snakes and your heartrate is starting to redline
Dreams from the boogieman will forever leave scars not letting you free
Leaving you this frightening present underneath your Christmas tree

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