A whisper on the windowpane, A drag of chain, aย bell of pain. The shadow on your wall's not yours, Itย crawls and climbs and has no pause. The good kids get their sugar dreams, You get theย sound of tearing seams. The bells don't chime, theyย scrape and bleed, Aย tortured sound to plant the seed. The chain, itย clenches, not to call, Butย to unmake your very wall. No gift for you, noย scent of pine, Justย ancient dread, that's now... all... thine. The door dissolves in shadow, deep, A vow the ancient winters keep. It did not come for milk or bread, But for the silent, rising dread. It knows the shape of every fault, To turn your blood to sudden halt. It wants the beat inside your chest, And then, your everlasting rest. The bells don't chime, theyย scrape and bleed, Aย tortured sound to plant the seed. The chain, itย clenches, not to call, Butย to unmake your very wall. No gift for you, noย scent of pine, Justย ancient dread, that's now... all... thine. Go on and clutch your threadbare friend, Its comfort cannot change your end. Your parents slumber, deaf and deep, While from your bed I come to reap. They think you're safe, a sleeping form, To feed the coming, endless storm. I'll take you where the shadows weep, Where ancient secrets lie so deep. A place from which no child returns, Where hope within the darkness burns. The journey long, the path unknown, To a silent throne of ice and bone. The only warmth my blazing eye, The only lullaby your desperate cry. The bells don't chime, theyย scrape and bleed, Aย tortured sound to plant the seed. The chain, itย clenches, not to call, Butย to unmake your very wall. No gift for you, noย scent of pine, Justย ancient dread, that's now... all... thine. A huff of breath, of frost and clove, No saint below, no god above. No prayer to plead, no hope to borrow, Just endless, cold, and dark tomorrow.
