The Thing in the Hall

The Thing in the Hall

And what might you become

when nothing ticks you by?

When the march of time is done

and daylight's gone to die?

What might linger, betwixt the walls

in the meandering doorless halls?

What might live, what might lie?

What's that in the corner of your eye?

That shambles and tangles

that trots and tramples.

What's that shape, that you tremble to behold?

Perhaps it's in your head.

Perhaps when you lie dead

up you'll rise a'scuttling

a formless, faceless dread!

And in your ear, you hear

the muttering

of a soul whose hope has bled

and out you'll come a'shuffling

from underneath the bed.