A smash,
A glass siren into the night,
The reposed hovel is breached,
Something has slivered in through the chasm,
Something in a balaclava,
A knitted visage of ill intent,

The dark shape haunts the sleeping home,
Possessed of a crowbar conviction,
Studious in its search for pearls and trinkets,
Trespasser tentacles in every nook,
This monster is out of its habitat,
Timidly whispering in tongues,

You deign to catch it red-handed,
A monster hunter in your pyjamas,
A strike is readied,
This is no creature,
Within that woollen mask is a man,
Cold eyes full of panic,

Blue eyes of a desperate man.

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