At first my voice is barely heard
 O’er dreams of pastel pink and blue;
I bide my time, my place secured,
 And linger for a year…
  Or two…

At last my quarry comes of age
 And trusts in tales the eyes reject;
Disguised in gloom I set the stage,
 Arranging shadows for effect.

False beasties lurk and ghosties rise
 And nightmares leap in childhood dreams
To break the spell of lullabies…

… I feast all night on midnight screams.

When years leave childish things behind
 And phantoms fail to conjure dread,
I prowl the mettle of the mind
 To keep myself alive…
  And fed…

To be accepted yet unique
 Becomes a bleak and hapless quest,
And passions wrapped in false mystique
 Torment the souls of those obsessed.

When heads and hearts cannot agree,
 And empty words from nameless peers
Outweigh a future meant to be…

… I quench my thirst on bitter tears.

The final reaping comes at last,
 Reviving nightmares time forgot
Of mansions filled with failures past
 And ghosts of choices made…
  Or not…

False martyrs rise as wisdom falls
 With haughty boasts of painful cost
And fools build artificial walls,
 Oblivious to freedom lost.

Like sheep to slaughter, they succumb
 To hopeless days of deep regret
And travesties that never come.
 My bounty overflows…
  And yet…

With one small drop of fervent prayer
 From those possessing souls to save,
I'd lose my sting of sweet despair...

 ...And be found sleeping o’er their grave.