Bitter rejection

The moon does creep...

Pushed by the mist...

Her velvet lips...

A devil's grip...

The mist consumes...

My mortal flesh...

But my soul still stands..

Upon the crest...

Wrapped in my dreams...

The witches dance...

A child cries...

By faiths swift hand... 

But i endure...

There is no choice..

To fade like mist...

Would it calm the voice...

Or would i cease...

Likes flakes of ash...

To fly away...

To be no more...

Like that soft mist...

At dawns first light...