Spun silver, the direst moon
loomed deadly in the pitch of night.
My heart was consumed entirely
in a web too deftly woven.
How swiftly Passion entangled
each fragile, pagan dream.
Without a sound of warning,
poison fingers clutched their prey.
Too many victims lingered,
shrinking threads of tattered remains.
My soul screamed in the struggle,
that soon, would join the rest.