The Hollow Man’s Hymn

Hush now, child, don’t make a sound,

The Hollow Man walks on haunted ground.

He comes where shadows twist and creep,

To steal the breath of those who sleep.

—

His voice is wind, a cold, dead sigh,

A whisper spun from those who cry.

He sings a song of dust and bone,

A dirge for souls that die alone.

—

His fingers thin, like brittle twigs,

They pluck the air in silent jigs.

A touch so light, so soft, so thin,

He’ll slip beneath your fragile skin.

—

No use to run, no use to hide,

He waits beyond the mortal tide.

The door you lock, the light you keep,

Won’t save you when you start to weep.

—

For when you wake in dead of night,

And find the air is far too tight,

You’ll know he’s there—his lips so near,

Humming death into your ear.

—

So hush now, child, close your eyes,

Before he claims his lullaby.