9 September 2012
We are the things that go bump in the night, That send chills up your spine and freeze your skin with fright, We are the scratches, the creaks and the moans, That you tell yourself are just the boiler's old groans.
We are the thuds that sound out from downstairs, That turn ice to your blood and turn frost to your hairs, We are the voices that whisper your name, Then click, whirr and exhale, it's always the same.
We are the daemons that alter the light, And send out our cold mantra to play with the night, We are the cat when the cat is asleep, We're the hissing from hell and the sow what you reap.
We're the enigma that captures your soul, A Grim shadow too many can take enough toll, For we are the things that go bump in the night, And, right now, you will join us, derived from sheer fright.
Bump • Opuss № I