She comes in ebony cloak through valleys of old,
carrying the goblet of misery,
eagering your soul,
on the other hand she carries tears,
of the ones she has captivated long ago.
She walks under the stark night,
yelling screams of sorrow, shedding tears that freight,
for those she once loved,
shreded to dust of bones they are gone.
They hear her lamentations
and their hearts are instant prey of apprehension,
for they know her mistery and dammnation,
thus they are unable to disregard her into whole oblivion
Her sordid torment is overpowered by sorrow,
her soul bound to earth swallowed by deep hollow,
brush some lamb blood on the frame,
so she shall for a while forget her rage,
Her deafning screams swallows the silence,
yet her pain deep down inside grows in violence,
embracing hatred, embracing sorrow,
shut thy ears my sweet one,
otherwise she might drag you into her hollow.
RQ
Rome
22-jul-10
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