He Was Not There

I sit by my fireside and I know he is here
I do not see him but there is a man there
I feel a breath delicately tickle my ear
And my nose finds the stench of grave air

Though to my eyes his form is hidden
I feel the presence of him behind me
My poor soul has long been hagridden
Therefore I no longer fear what I may see

From dark corners the phantoms crawl
With a mind to spread their nocturnal eternity
Their footsteps I constantly hear in the hall
Carrying me with them to the brink of insanity

I fear that like Marley he presents a warning
Though not cruel nor a miser have I been
I imagine his scowl filled with scorning
As he delivers a message of every sin