• Shuttered windows in the night
    Ghosts and demons quake in fright
    A flashlight in a grisly basement dims,

    A shaking figure in the black
    Runs forth, across, around and back,
    regretting that he chose to birth his sins.

    A cruel idea in the mind,
    forced out between those shaking blinds,
    Too far revealed to hide, to large to spin;

    A parody of Father plays,
    Informs you of the brighter days.
    And how you lost them to the reaper's twin.

    A skull adorns his scythe of doom,
    a whisper in a beating room,
    a careless step or word and he will win;

    He hides beneath your bedroom floor
    and lingers 'til you lay and snore
    A nightmare superficial will begin.

    Notice not the creaking boards,
    footprints of ash along the floor,
    Nor the silence of the beating wind;

    The beat will stop, the wind will cease
    your lungs and heart set down at ease...

    And now you've lost them to the reaper's twin.