The Birth of Nightmare.

With demon eyes of deathly gleam,
he padded softly in hellish dream,
and painted frowns across the doors,
and stretched faces from jamb to floor.

His sickly grin, his furry chest,
to the shrivelled heart that no beats test,
to tail, to fang, to claw, to darkened scowl,
the laugh, the cackle, the bark, the howl.

Oh sweet infestation of nightmare here
a mixture of all that we do fear,
and in inky shadows linger under bed, under floor,
to drive, to beat at us forever more.

Dark, oh dark, still black is white to eyes
where you haunt the depths where the devil cries,
your heart, your home, your birth be spun,
and strike at the world with burning sun,
for shadowed land you have begun,
to twirl and break the heart undone.