It's the vine people
They are possibly dead
They make the nightmares vivid
They keep the horrors fed
I don't know who they are
They just are
They hang like weights on a twig
In the fog, can't see far
They sway with the wind
Like inert pendulums do
I turn my gaze in my sleep
Don't want to see this crew
They are all dead
Except a man on the right
I fear it's me, I wake up
In the middle of the night
