My eyes are as black as a bat's fur. 
Maybe that is why I see perfectly in the dead of night. 
My skin is pale and thin, easily peirced. 

I've been waiting in the dark. In the empty house,
I hear the clock chime at every hour. 
The humans who inhabit this house come home 
when the day is almost done. When the humans sleep,
That is when I play. 

The dark hues of the night match the color of my soul.
I am evil.
I look in the mirror and see an image that even gives me chills. 

And I wonder, what, before time could be counted and languages written,