Wicked winds weaving woes
touched the traitor’s tool that
betrothes barren, broken
hearts. Her Highness, hurting
wrecked wings, weary wraiths
strangers, sickness, Sunlight screams
Nightmare Knights: knock, knock, knock
Creeping, cloying, clawing at her clothes..
She waits.
This is quite entrancing. A little dark too, which I’m always a fan of… 🙂
Well done!
Thank you 😊