A man in a long black cape,
Across his shoulders it was draped,
Around him was an aura of gloom,
Stood silently in the corner of my room.
With a voice deeper than the sea,
That held me captive- I couldn’t flee,
He spoke in words foreign and new,
Said he’d make my nightmares come true.
“Are you scared of death, little girl?” He asked
“Do you still carry the demons of your past?”
“Have you ever dreamed of being kidnapped,
To the backseat of a car, strapped,
Taken away to a place unknown,
And just being left there, all alone?”
“Have you ever dreamed of a child
With endless pits for eyes- he’s blind
Yet he comes in the dead of the night
And gives you a terrible fright.”
“A lonely voice singing to you
Singing of death, misery, and curfew.
A voice you could only hear but not see-
The singer doesn’t appear.
It’s just her soul that’s lamenting,
Loud and clear, right here.”
“She’s singing of torture, of people wronged.
She’s singing the truth; listen to her song.”
“I’m what nightmares are made of,
I’ll make all yours come true.
You may think you’re mad; others will too
But the truth is known to only me and you.
And the truth is this, little girl”, he said,
“I haunt wrongdoers when they go to bed.”
“I scare the living daylights out of them,
Avenge the souls that they have condemned.
“I feed on the screams of people who do wrong
I feed on the voices of those souls in song.
I feed on the fear I feel coming from you
So tell me girl do you fear death, do you?”
- Hera Havewala