behold, Ladies and Gentlemen!
a shadow's eyeing your quiet den,
avoid her grasp, if you can,
for she's a master of deceitful plan.
beware the writer's guise,
innocence masking her lies,
behind the smile, a dangerous prize,
a murderer in a clever disguise.
a skill to make your senses swoon,
you might meet your doom soon,
for if you cross her, your fate's croon,
in her hands, your end will loom.
oh, dare to challenge her might,
she'll weave your fears in the dead of night,
with pen and paper, a potion ignite,
a tale of terror, a chilling sight.
each letter, you'll shed a tear,
in a riddle of torment and fear,
a haunting nightmare under starry skies,
in the stillness where darkness lies.
her craft, a sorcery of dread,
in her black book, a curse unread,
whispers of a poem of death
In her hands, you'll meet defeat.
YOU ARE READING
DEAR SELF,
Poetry"The love that you are searching from someone else, will and must always start with yourself." (A collection of poem and prose about self-love, moving forward, and embracing one's imperfections) -ResNullius-
