Morbid

This poem is kind of disturbing that's why the name of it is MORBID, here goes nothing:

What are you afraid of?
The glow of the wicked and unforgiving moon?
The face of the man who isn't there
Grinning at you through your reflection?
What makes your skin crawl?
The mournful sound of the lost child?
Knowing that no matter how much you scream
Nobody will hear you, or save you?
What turns your blood to ice?
The freezing fingers of the judgmental ghost
Perhaps the look of the little girls eyes
When she's possessed by the wrathful demon?
What gets your heart pumping in the dark?
For me it's the sound of your sick laughter
The sight of your grotesque and appalling heart
The feel of your cold and clammy skin
Reaching for my exposed, desperate soul
What do you want from me?