A phantom now is slinking,
Around the bound'ries of your home.
Of thievery it's thinking.
The phantom waits, upon the loam,
The ground still soft from morning dew.
It's dusk; the phantom's creeping,
Across the ground with patient stealth.
The phantom hopes you're sleeping,
For it has spied a place with wealth:
Your castle's cherished treasure true!
It pauses at your window,
And peers within to check your state:
Outside, the howling wind-blow
Is lost on you. You sleep through fate,
Upon oblivion's deep bed.
The phantom feels a quiver:
It yearns to steal a special gem!
Such joy would that deliver:
A newfound leaf for darkness' stem!
It smiles, and then begins to tread -
It leaves the window quickly,
And rounds the house to seek the door.
Its breathing comes quite thickly.
The moment it's been longing for:
The phantom now unlocks the bolt.
Advancing, it comes sneaking,
At last inside your castle walls.
It's searching, now, it's peeking,
For that for which a true love falls.
But halt! Was that your waking jolt?
The phantom now does hurry,
Afraid that you are now awake.
It doesn't slow, but scurry;
More time it can't afford to take!
It frantic'lly seeks out its prize --
And finds it! Oh, so pleasant!
Its urgency it soon forgets;
This stolen, hard-earned present
Will far repay all petty debts.
Such blissful, knowing, sweet surprise!
The phantom's next decision
Is not a hard one, not at all:
With veteran precision,
It reaches with a pincer small
To now extract its precious goal.
Its grip so rough and jagged,
Its wicked, scheming, thieving claw
Descends. Its breaths come ragged;
It's now aware that you just saw
What happened: what the phantom stole.
You're shocked beyond expression;
You're speechless, frozen on the stair
Which you, in slow succession,
Have just stepped down, to seek fresh air.
But what you've witnessed shakes your core.
The phantom now is smi'ling;
It silently applauds its skill,
Its wile for such defiling.
It's never stopped, and never will.
Its genius it does so adore! -
But now your moves are able.
You call to it, demand to know:
"Who are you, monstrous fable?
And what is that, your evil glow?"
You walk; it slowly turns about.
It speaks no words, just trembles
With satisfaction at your shock.
Your courage disassembles,
As futilely you turn your lock,
But still you cannot get it out.
It's gotten in your castle,
And found your treasure, 'spite your walls,
With very little hassle.
It's unperturbed by locks, or calls.
You've lost, you've lost, you know it's so.
The phantom is approaching,
Now venturing to draw so near.
Its caref'lly planned-out poaching
Was warned against, with flowing fear.
But you did not pay heed that flow.
Your loss of self so deepened;
You didn't question wrong or right.
The tears come, now, but cheapened
By bitterness you cannot fight.
You know the truth, but still resist.
The phantom's reached your stairs, now.
It grins an evil smile. It's won.
It's twisting all your cares, now,
And you must wait until it's done . . .
And now, you wish to not exist.
Too late - for here's the aching,
A cut so deep from such a knife.
The phantom's gladly making
Your misery become your life.
You cannot stand, so raw's the pain.
You try to sit, but stumble,
And fall face-first upon the ground.
Your walls begin to crumble,
Unraveling with deaf'ning sound.
The phantom smiles, your tears in vain.
Your treasure's yours no longer;
The phantom's stolen it away.
Therefore, itself made stronger,
The phantom now can kill the day:
It's fin'lly night, all light's been mobbed.
The dusk is gone - the day, too.
The sole remainder is the night.
The darkness. In a way, too,
Two wrongs have truly made a right.
All else but darkness has been robbed.
The phantom laughs, and leaves you.
It exits through the unlocked door,
As crushing pain receives you
Inside its hug forevermore.
The phantom to itself now gloats!
Complex yet simple thieving
Results in catastrophic bliss,
The victim crushed with grieving.
The thief's the hug; the theft's the kiss.
Behold: The phantom darkly floats.
It glances up above, then quickly to the left;
It glances to the rear, and swiftly to the right.
Assured it's done its best - a gruesome, perfect theft -
The phantom flies ahead, enshrouded in the night.
