Storm Without a Sound

The storm rolls in like a warning,

Thunder crawling across the sky.

Another name on the missing posters,

Another family asking why.

They say he moves like a shadow,

A whisper slipping through the trees.

No prints, no tracks, no heartbeat —

Just rain where a man should be.

They call him The Ohio Valley Phantom,

A ghost in a world of flesh and bone.

Bodies found in the midnight rainfall,

But he walks on, forever unknown.

No witness, no sound, no mercy —

Just the storm claiming what's left behind.

The Phantom roams the valley,

And he's always one step outside your mind.

Police lights drown in the downpour,

Every clue washed into the night.

He leaves them lying in the open,

As if daring the world to fight.

A silhouette in the lightning,

A rumor carried by the wind.

Some swear they saw him watching,

But their voices fade again.

Is he man, or myth, or nightmare?

A curse carved out of the rain?

Every drop that hits the pavement

Feels like he's calling out your name.

The valley sleeps uneasy,

The storm knows where he's been.

And when the thunder cracks at midnight,

You can feel him breathe within.

They call him The Ohio Valley Phantom,

A ghost no cage could ever hold.

Bodies left in the cold rain falling,

Stories whispered but never told.

He's the silence after sirens,

The shadow you swear you saw.

The Phantom walks the valley,

And the valley lives in awe.