O, creatures and goblins,
Dark apparitions, too,
Betrayers of sovereigns,
And the beasts of the blue;
Hear me, hear me,
In this that I write:
Why doth thou not near me
In this lonely night?

Oh, ghosts and ghouls
And spirits savage,
What came of the tools
Which used to ravage?
The pitchforks
And cleavers
With sharp torques
Of reavers;
The chains
And needles,
Sick brains
And beetles,
Black blisters
And puss,
Those three weird sisters
That turned “I” and “me”
Into “us”.

For nothing stirs but fantasies,
No nightmares now, but slumbered dreams.
I’ve been abandoned by grim travesties
(Or at least that’s how it seems).

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