They float like smoke through open doors,
They drift like mist across the floors.
They whisper in the empty halls
And moan like lost souls in the walls.
They peer out from the shadows deep
And watch you as you fall asleep.
They touch your face with icy fingers
And where they touch you, coldness lingers.
They haunt your dreams and fill your head
With terrors that you often dread.
They make you scream and cry, you bet,
And wake you up in a cold, damp sweat.
But ghosts are just figments of your mind,
They don't exist outside your head.
So close your eyes and go back to sleep
And dream of happy things instead.