Mine was real, and she came at midnight.
Not really a ghost.
Not really a demon.
Maybe she wasn't even evil.
But her actions were evil.
And she was real.
For about four years, she was real.

She haunted my home; it was hers too.
She haunted my father; he was hers too.
She haunted my sleep, and shared with me nightmares.
She possessed me every day.
Relentless, she filled me with spite.
The spite she got from her parents.
The spite she got from her boyfriend, my dad.

But as the clock struck four,
And the Devil's Hour faded,
And the earliest glimpse of the morning came,
She fled like the dark creature she was.
She took her screams.
She took her plagues.
But she left for me a curse.

Now, though she's gone,
I can't rid myself of her screams.
And I don't know whether to be enraged,
Or crushed,
Or to pity her.
I just wish I knew the rite I need,
To rid myself of her curse.