A tree witch stalks; her eyes fire worms
her green robe whips the moon and stars.
Pale sacs bear eggs that bind to flesh
Fauns raise pink orbs; a dead prince wakes.
Mauve oil rots fiends; numb slaves breathe light
wargs howl and pounce; a blood king twists
pure souls of God who scorned his guile.
Fumes choke the sage; he falls to crones
Dark songs rend grace; and holy power drains.
This form of poetry writing is where I wish to be.
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