I am but a horned boy,
I need no compassion,
Still afraid of shadows,
Still quivers in the wind.
The jersey devil called me brittle,
“A brittle, crumbling fool you are,
“But don’t worry Lucas,” he said,
“I’ll be with you forever,
“Under Mother Moon’s stars.”
I trembl’d at that,
Hoped he wouldn't notice,
‘Twas the Fates who cruel,
Me, the Hellcat.....and shadows.
Seething silhouettes,
Wielding daggers,
Squeezing thy pulsing heart.
Mine own fears fill thy mountain stream,
Brittle, now timorous,
Struck with afflicted dreams.
Confusion, rapturous, the wind whispers in a niche,
Tales of vengeance to remember,
Conceived I a plot,
Look out Hellcat!
Fear I, and the word: dismember.
                                                      ­       -**Firefly