Sirens Song

Wailing cries of banshee nights, howled thoughts unto the moonlight, they trickle down the contentment of stars.
A somber tone to lament the coming tide waning against the destitution of time; they phase through liquid glass to offset the bloodshed.
As the child dreams of death cold hands caress the spine of doubt, tearing through veins holding your lies; no time left gasping for air.
Into her bosom a drowning sorrow, her song is your final breath left for tomorrow's wishes gone unfulfilled; rumbling towards the looming sea.