Title: IT

The young, caught in a malstorm

of dark fear, cold nights,

horror creeping

between the cracks of humanity's soul,

searching out an eternal meal of harrowing pain,

for the spider always searches out its prey.

Fear the night,

fear the day,

fear, this very second.

The clown from hell,

once in his sight,

shall never leave you alone.

IT can be banished, never destroyed,

and IT will return

when the young have grown,

for fear feels no pain.

Fear lives to cause sorrow,

in the midnight madness of your mind.