The Monster Is Dead

The Monster Is Dead

The night moves in on dark feet
Very soon the darkness is complete
And something looms there in the night
Something there that's just not right.

I feel the coldness in the air
There is something out there
That does not care and does not bustle
Does not hurry, does not hustle.

It shifts, it moves, it slithers on
Until the day it comes upon
An innocent victim, a fragil soul
To latch upon, to take control.

There is an evil in the air
A nasty presence that does not care
But have no worry for it is dead
Someone shot the monster in the head.