When I was a child of only three
The Rotted man came for me
late one night from my open door
he slowly crept across the floor
he took me by the hand and said
I’ll save you from this life of dread
we left the house in the early morn
and took his carriage of blackened thorn
we rode for hours through thick dense fog
to a darkened unlit swamp filled bog
where top-less trees with hanging moss
were shields from the unseen winter frost
the thick wet heat from the dense cool air
crept up your back and through your hair
he took me to his house of bones
on a path laid with cobble stones
upon his door hung a head
of a child with hair of fiery red
his hall was bathed in blood red tile
the walls were stacks of flesh in piles
He told me of his protective view
and begged that I should join him too
He smiled and through his rotted lips
I saw a thousand children’s fingertips
He promised me the world would pay
and told me that I could stay
Then we entered a smaller room
and the rotted man gave me a red balloon
Then I saw my mom through tinted glass
The man with her was talking fast
The tears were pouring from her eyes
The man then held her while she cried
Then the Rotted man did the strangest thing,
He sat down with me and began to sing.
A soft nice tune that filled my head
With puppy dogs and fresh baked bread
It was then I notice that the rotted man
Was simply old and had a tan,
And then my mom burst in the room
The feel of warmth, her sweet perfume
She hugged me tight and swore to me
From here on out, Dad would let us be.
No more bruises no more fights,
No more screaming in the night,
The rotted man had saved our lives,
By taking those who beat their wives,
And children that cry when they’re dropped,
And are beaten senseless until they stop,
I thank the Rotted man a lot,
And never have I forgot,
That the thing I feared, saved my life,
They had found my father with a knife,
There are real horrors on this earth,
Some are subjected to them at birth,
We were saved by a man made of rot,
I was lucky, but many are not.
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