HeraldCrane

My Gothic Fairytale Little spider, Climb the wall, Weave your web, But please don't fall. Bloodied hands, They work upon, Rotten corpses, That death feeds on. The night rolls in, And with it hides, Any hints of happiness, And all smiles subside. Princesses play games with, Knives and fire, And the princes watch on with, Lust and desire. Kingdoms riddled with, Hate and pain, The castles ruin under, Poisoned reign. Rats roam the streets, And the fog haunts the air, The wind whistles tunes, Of gloom and despair. Tormented whispers, Of lives long lost, Dance through the houses, Buried in frost. Blackened lunged and,