Cry of the Banshee

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(disclaimer: a poem for the challenge "Mythical Mirror" organized by @WattpadUrbanFantasy, November 2023. Prompt "Create a poem from a mythical creature's perspective, depicting their life in an urban legend of your choice or imagination!")

enjoy! <3

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It used to be so hard to be

the little me, a shiest thing

I used to swoosh across the roofs

and wailed with people in their sleep

made sure they got a good night scream

but I would hide most of the time

the little me

a shiest thing


but with each year their cities grew

so many light, so many sounds

that I could join with my wail too

on roofs they built, so grand, so tall

so many souls live beneath those

for me to join during their sleep

make sure they get a good night scream


so when they sleep I scream with them

when they're awake I'm sleeping then


at night I swoosh across the roofs

of homes, of bars, of clubs, of pubs,

across the roofs of churches, malls,

even the smallest night guard's booths

because if there is someone there

they surely need my help, they do

my wailing helps them with their sleep

and helps them wake up in the morn

and when they do not wake up, well,

I cry for them, their souls, I do


but in those cities with their lights

their sounds, the noise, the constant buzz

none can hear my deathly call

I cry alone, the little me

a shiest thing


but then a new night always comes

another night, another flight

across the endless rooftop track


I help the people with their sleep

I am their scream, I am their cry

I am the mare they wish to fight

with drugs, and prayers,

other's warmth

but I still come to one and all

and I make sure that they all get

a good night scream

a shiver too

and when they wake up they will cheer

a new world's come

they have survived

and if they never wake again

I'll cry for them

cry there and then


but in those cities with their lights

their sounds, the noise, the constant buzz

I cry alone, a shiest thing

but someone has to cry for them

why not the little me?

I feed on troubles of their minds

might just as well cry for them when

they lose their final fight


and when they breathe their final breath

I go back to my endless flight

across the roofs

across the minds

of little things that dream so big

and I will scream with them I will

until their final breaths are done

and only then I'll stop my wail

and join the world

the silent world

the little me

a shiest thing

content that all is calm

Cry of the BansheeWhere stories live. Discover now