I see things On the rainy nights On those terrible nights Filled with frights Honestly, I think something’s wrong with me Who else would see The man outside And who else would feel The watching of his eyes I will go walking, and I see him beside me, walking with an umbrella in his hands and a butterfly on his pale fingers. He would ask me if I was cold Did I need assistance? Did I want to share the umbrella he held? He would always smile at my resistance. With his white eyes, and his black trench coat; his neckless body and his pale, grainy skin. He called chills up my spine, but a butterfly sat upon him. That butterfly It saw no threat Nothing at all Maybe that’s why let him help We were so close, but the air around us was warm. We said nothing at all, the only sound the pattering of rain above our heads. The butterfly moved from the man to my shoulder and seemed content there. I smiled The man beside me smiled as well He was always smiling I suppose that’s why I stayed Why I’m still here, smiling. He isn’t scary, no he’s rather nice, and he’ll wait for you when you’re in a fright. He’ll offer you help and give you double; but then you’ll be in trouble. I’m still here, here in this world. Stuck smiling in a room filled with others. My butterfly is frozen upon me, such as I. But I’m happy forever, I suppose. Happy with all the others.