Listen to me,
The howl of the hopeless.
Sitting here by night,
Thriving in silent loathing.
The cool air caresses my skin,
So bare, so pale,
Stained with a thousand mistakes.
The night is my screaming cage,
My only refugee,
Of lovely hatred,
Bitter understanding,
With clumps of stars,
Vile spice,
Jagged and rough to the touch.

My emotions seep out in the evening,
Covering me in a vast, empty blackness.
Without your presence to warm me,
I'm the demon of the night.
I haunt the innocent, and I cry,
I can't help it,
I'm dying.
A black, black figure am I,
With skin so pale, so innocent white.
Why does my appearance lie?
These wretched curls,
Undaunted white skin,
How can I look so innocent, so unhurt?
I look a lie; truly I'm the Grim Reaper.

The daytime stone exploding on me,
Shredding my dark self.
I cower somewhere lonesome,
And await the next evening's gentle touch.
I smell the sun,
Harsh and burning,
My dreams hot, miserable, hazy.
I hide, I can't look into the daylight life,
I'm a coward.
Cruel, murdering coward.
No one sees inside of me,
No one suspects their coming screams.
But I am the Grim Reaper,
And I'm here to violently ruin you,
So stay there but beware,
Always remeber,
I only haunt the night.