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The Banshee of Blackheart

A Poem

Unto the summer of day and night,

Under yon is the where the creature takes flight,

But sooner does thou learn their lot only e'er be as prey,

As the light dims and so does the day,

Woe to the untouched Black.


From sinners, from saints,

From the wicked form unto this land and render the flesh,

Folding into the miasmic scent of her, penetrating the weary souls,

Folding new strains, unbound they go,

The sorrowing of the Black.


The bewitched hunt for flesh,

Seductress,

Beautiful siren,

With her hungry dead eyes,

She is the Black.


The witching will arise,

The last light glimmers,

The last rays of light shimmer,

There they are,

Not very far,

Woe to the ascending Black.


The screams cry in dark,

The deafening dark there in the fog she leads,

Though all is devoured, so is the light,

Though back into the night they creep,

Behind the widowed Black.


The bewitched murder all,

Seductress,

Beautiful siren,

With her hungry dead eyes,

She is the Black.


The witching will arise,

In the shadows, they creep,

Leaving many a widow weep,

The banshee will howl,

In her hooded black cowl,

Woe to the angered Black.


Alone is she,

Alone is thee who walks the valley under haunting shadows,

Abandoned is the starlit sky and so is she,

Abandoned is her beloved belief,

Lust is the Blackhearted.


The bewitched ensnare and coddle their victims,

Seductress,

Beautiful siren,

With her hungry dead eyes,

She is the Black.


The witching will arise,

Longer is the night for thee,

For the death of one is the release as the creature will be free,

After the moonlight wanes,

And anew is the creature before the night fades,

Woe to the lonely Black.


Under shawls and rags,

Under the rotted smile of lies,

Undertaking a hideous task,

Undertaking the grave of no return,

Taken are you by the Black.


The witching will arise,

Taken are you by the Black.

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The Banshee of Blackheart
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