The Hollow comes crawling up to you in the dead of the night,
A night when you are tucked in safe, when you sleep amidst the memories of mommy singing you a lullaby.
A night, when you thank God for the warm duvet you have to snuggle.
A night when comfort is the soft yellow light, shining outside.
A night when the sturdy lock on your main door, lulls you into thinking you are safe.
The Hollow lies in wait,
Sometimes in your closet,
Sometimes on the branch of a tree outside your window,
Sometimes in dark corners of the passage,
Sometimes peeking through the keyhole of your main door.
The Hollow lies in wait,