Operatic

He lives in a catacomb
Beneath the Opera's splendid sound
He feels the chill but calls it home
Where peace and darkness can be found

But one night he hears her sing
Far above, poised on the stage
Her tones echo with a certain ring
Calming his persistent rage

He abducts her to his lair
Her hair grasped with a pale hand
She sings well, without a care
Subject to his stern demand

She slips off the Master's mask
Finds the scar tissue it conceals
But still she sings, performs the task
Accepting all that he reveals.