deepundergroundpoetry.com

THE HUNTRESS

She walks
Haunting this forest made of stones
In white
In contrast with the blackened sky
Her touch
Wither away all the roses
The night
Heeds to the wish of The Huntress

Named by the flame of Autumn twilight
Crucified, redefined in the crucible
Must I suffer in bitter hindsight
As I write this desolate crimson parable?

The tease
To appease the daemons inside
Adorned
In leather ripped from graveyard death
Takes me
To spiral down splendid nightmares
I am
Restless in absence of The Huntress

Obsessed by the flame of Autumn twilight
Crucified, redefined in her crucible
I must suffer in bitter hindsight
As I ink this desolate crimson parable

Walking in shadow
Casting her spell of dark magic
Wytchcraft from below
Malice that�s necrorgasmic

Named by the flame of Autumn twilight
Crucified, redefined in the crucible
Must I suffer in bitter hindsight
As I write this desolate crimson parable?
Obsessed by the flame of Autumn twilight
Crucified, redefined in her crucible
I must suffer in bitter hindsight
As I ink this desolate crimson parable