Hang In There

Through the dark tunnel there is a light

Although no one has found signs of the bright

Growing with impatience with what's left to die

Swaying in the rythme of deaths true lie

The Reaper's face is set to a Grim creep

Silently crying for the boy in the deep

Clasping the wood, mind ready

Not wanting to clash, whispers "don't do it Freddy"

With a sigh of relief as the boy climbs back in bed

Thankful the floor is not stained red

Belt placed back on the shelf

Closet closed muttering to himself