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Roses, Ashes, and Blood

They are calling/ An eerie shriek/ From within the woods that never speak/ Shrouded in fog/ The dark ones sing/ The dead trees stir/ The still pond ripples/ And the day gives way to night.

The dark ones call/ And are heard in the pedals of the black rose. The dark ones call/ And are heard in the flame that consumes worlds. The dark ones call/ And are heard in raindrops of blood.

They come to call the living to follow/ For the dark ones sing a song/ From the forest that never sings/ They sing but a single song and leave/ And that song is death.

Email: onewingedangel2010@yahoo.com