Scurry, Dear Frankenstein

Whence I came of the dark recesses
         Of your mind unbridled.
Petrified were you of the horrors
          You unconscionably created.


O, how I longed for and loved virtue
         Creating in me this passion,
Satisfied only by love from one
         Who could never dare look upon me.


The virtue I had held came to naught,
         Soon ousted by virulence.
My friendly cottagers spurned my face
         I, now, to be a fiend of all men.


My dear Frankenstein, I begged of you:
         Create for me a love, a mate.
I swore to haunt your side ‘til deed done,
         Then I would come nigh to receive her.


I suffered to wait many a month,
         Only to watch you lacerate my hopes.
Would you had ripped my heart from body
         There could be no lesser pain for me.


Hence, I stole every last wishful thought
         Bound to your dying soul.
I stole your last hope of happiness
         The night was led to wed love and pain.


You struck out a vigorous journey
         In search of my heightened evils.
I led you to stray, in this last chase.
         Anon—you lost yourself to find me.


This last hope of being pursued, I
         Stole the light of your soul
And found you lost to deep weariness,
         Not a requiescat could revive.


Now, cruelly alone in a world of
         Men and fears of the dark,
Which comes unbidden, uncalled, descends
         Upon my lost happiness and dread.



I was to live—no more fulfilled than
         I had been before—
Alone, alone, alone. To you this
         Is inconceivable for your joys.

So now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

And if I die before I wake,

’Tis this last fortitude I slake.