There was a little girl who lived in a house..
..along with a monster that used to come out..
Who'd wait around when the sun went down..
..as silent as the wind; it never made a sound.
It's shadow looming over her bed with only groans to say.
Who'd slink right out as quick as it came.
Petrified and shaking, the girl would jolt awake.
She'd see the beast in the dark before it could scurry away.
In the morning light, she would feel safe..
..but she could always feel eyes on her from miles away.
Eyes looking into her window, boring into her skull.
Doors would creak, floorboards would squeak; something she used to think nothing of.
The demon was getting meaner, growing fangs and claws.
She struggled to hide the marks and bruises made by the poltergeist's paws.
Her eyes were bloodshot, and her demeanor was withdrawn.
She knew not a single thing of the war that raged from dusk to dawn.
The demon spoke in whispers, chilling her to the bone.
The more she cried out of fear, the fiercer were its moans.
She knew monsters weren't real; here was one if you'd look.
Sometimes reality was scarier than any tale in a storybook.
Some say she's waiting for when she can finally fight back.
Until then, the darkness engulfs where the demon reaches out and grabs.
And she will keep quiet; all but a pleading, crying croak.
That the monster will hear but ignore: "Please, no, Daddy. Don't."