It was scabby Ugly and terrified with skin like red velvet. It crawled, hung, stuch to the floor the paws red and abused.
The phantom walked past quietly calm, distant, confused⦠It was too heavy And he held it He grabbed it
By the paws, the scabby paws By itβs weakness. Not a sound did it utter, Not a wimper: A silent submission.
And I donβt know what won, Which remote song of humanity sung Of emptyness more ghastly than fear, Hanging limply and calmly, Like a shrivelled christmas turkey.