I am the monster that you seek
The Boo Hag
The Baba Yaga
The witch in the cabin—come to gobble you
Plenty—full
I am the host of ill will—a master of malice
I am your wildest dreams
The one you can never catch
but will always catch you
I am visions of fever
Cold and clammy in the rain
We danced there to the fiddler’s tune
And the mice played
And the faeries clapped
And my shadow splintered and crawled away
I could reach for you now
I would ask that you only whisper
I am both the rich and the poor
And the ache in your belly
From too much of not enough
I’m the crack of your knuckles
And your knees as they buckle
I see you for who you really are
You’re not nearly as afraid as you should be
I am what you will me to be in your most vile intrusions
Your afterthoughts of passion and petty
I am your eyes and all that you see
Wide and hungry—you are starving
Your bones are weak, and you look tired
Come and rest. I am a soft pillow
To suffocate you
Won’t you lie down?
You asked me nicely
So, here we are
At the end of the world at the edge of the moor
In your darkest hour on the darkest day
The silence is loud, and the thunder is deafening
And the beat of your heart is drumming
And the sweat is gleaming
A beacon summoning nightmares worse than me
I am Sloth. I am Envy. I am Lust. I am Pride
I am Wrath and Glutton and Greed
I am Seven. I am All. I am None
And yet I wear your mind like fine silk
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