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The love of two families,

Separated by hate and forgotten rivalries,

This night, enchanted by moon-light,

Scenic view of a match made by demons,

The freezing cold begins to move swiftly,

Engulfing the shadowy veil of crimson madness,

My appetite withered as the blood-curdling scream echoed,



Through the fog, her silhouette was seen,

A ghost in the fog of mourning,

This puppet of demonic, morbid acts,

Flowing towards the valley of forbidden damnation,

The shadow of death, stalking her every move,

The flow of nocturnal habits,

Guilty conscience of a mortal man,

Bound to this plane by a violent death,



Forever to remain roaming the land, knowing only torment,

Sipping on the blood-filled glass,

Divine intervention of a wicked death,

Retrieving the paradox that is life and lust,

Gripping this movement of destiny,

As the fog flows through me,

This ghost of inviting, invigorating beauty that she is,

Drawing me closer to death's scythe,



Comparing her to a warm summer's day,

When she crept from her grave,

Creaming from fantasies to reality,

The throat I gazed at, ripped out and rotted away,

Searching for the truth of this nightmare,

Of darkened men and wicked deeds,

The pilgrim night of drifting sin,

In turn of capturing the angels' of night,





Fallen heroes, awakened Arch Angels' Of Satan's reign,

Veiling in the shadows of our minds,

Disguising themselves, withdrawing from sense of time.