The Terror

There is a terror lurking deep, deep down,

Cold and crawling, slithering close behind

Through potholes, caves or where coal has been mined.

When and where was it hatched? Why has it grown?

How did that fearful seed come to be sown?

No matter, it’s there, as its victims find,

Thriving in darkness, this terror is blind:

Whomever suffers must face it alone.

Going underground, where there is no light,

The terror is waiting down in its lair,

Waiting for the sort of victim it likes:

Those who can’t reason why they take fright

At thoughts of the pit, of being caught down there,

Of becoming trapped. Then the terror strikes!

                                                                                                                                                                Dave Alton