Ghostly spots where ne’er a spill
Has happened, they’re appearing still.
I spray and scrub until they’re done,
And weeks will pass. I’ll think I’ve won.
So slowly, then, they’ll show themselves,
As if they’re conjured by the elves
Or shades, or demons in the night
That set upon the land a blight!
Not once, not twice, but thrice I’ve tried,
So many potions I’ve applied.
But every time the shadows grow,
And whence they come I do not know.
Perhaps they are not of this world,
But from some dark existence hurled!
A portal may be trying to form
From worlds where alien hordes will swarm!
And I and my determined scours
Are all that stand ‘twixt theirs and ours.
With great Resolve and all my might,
I vow to not give up the fight!
With brush and bucket in my hand,
I venture forth to make my stand.
Breach the void I swear they’ll not!
Henceforth my war cry, “Out, damn spot!”
