The Phantom

The Phantom watches from the shadows of the night.
We toss and turn with nothing but a prayer for light.
His eyes bright, yet shamed, his hands clean to the eye, yet covered in filth,
his words soft, yet venomous.
Clearly remembered scars, his mask now covers, what a thin mask it is,
what a sleepless night it will be, in the bed we have made,
with nothing but our own sin.
We toss and turn with nothing but a prayer for light,
as the phantom watches from the shadows of the night.

Reviews

[Sharon L.H. Kelly]

I suspect the Phantom is who or what we create ourselves, our own personal demon, if you will. Haunting. Well done.