When I die I’ll haunt you, dear.
You’ll hear the growling in your ear.
I’ll be the door that slams quite shut
for no apparent reason, but
you’ll wonder if it was the breeze,
though after twenty times you’ll see
it’s me! it’s me! The one you teased,
tormented daily. Never pleased.
Berated me with constant stern,
told me I would never learn,
criticised my every deed,
stabbed my heart then watched it bleed.
So now you get the saucers flying,
bugs on crumpets multiplying,
shaking bed in dead of night,
waking nightmares dark with fright.
My passing’s not your happy release.
I’ll give you not a minute’s peace.
You ruled with fear for long enough.
I’ll wreak revenge with scary stuff.
You’ll ask your mother to move in,
then she’ll increase your suffering.
When I die you WILL regret
and curse the day we ever met.