Laced With Fear

One hundred fifty years have passed

The grisly murder, life aghast

Only eighteen years old that lonesome night

Death kissed her lips, a fateful plight

~

Rumor has it, she can be seen

When the veil thins on Halloween

She's a temptress with raven hair

Possess your soul without a care

~

A bad omen, the Banshee screams

This succubus invades your dreams

Dark beauty who met her demise

Becomes a hag before your eyes

~

Ominous seduction, laced with fear

Her intentions are ever clear

Pray you wake before dawn of day

'Cause she'll take you where demons play!

DORINDA WHEELER 2017

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED