7 years ago. Thursday, October 4, 2018 at 3:39 PM
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...