The Nightmare King

The heart that holds is one in red, Crimson darkness filled with regret, Hurling its worms into your head, Making you feel rough in your bed. He doesn't leave, he is here to stay, To you torture, to him a game, He is the hunter and you are his prey, Lucky he doesn't come out at day. The things you see are because of him, the blood streaked walls, both gore and grim, the darkened rooms with a monster too thin, the heart ached pains of a past too dim. He lurks and lingers for the longest times, he sat back, watched you suffer, drank a glass of wine all who know him shriek and hide, from the Nightmare King and his bloodied eye.