Work in progress

Once in the darkest hour of the night,
The clouds drowning out the heavens light,
A viscous wind chilled me to the bone,
Then she spoke to me and me alone,
Why alone sit thee this winter night?
At this the moon started to shine bright,
And I found that I was moved to tears,
For that voice I never thought I'd hear.
Then my bride walked down that silver beam,
I thought surely this must be a dream,
Then the crow he cried three times to warn,
That my bride she wore a crown of thorns,
God I cried what blasphemy is this,
And then I noticed her scarlet wrists,
Her face then twisted into a grin,
Not based in love but founded on sin,
And I thought, what kind of dream is this?
As she disappeared into the mist.

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