fauxcroft

The bells ring,

The baby cries,

We get closer

To the bewitching time,

Among the forests,

Among the trees,

A new evil

Resonates and seethes,

Like a dark black mess

Creeping along the ground,

I hear the screaming

And the whispering sounds,

That echo throughout

This enchanted place,

Lacking love, lacking grace,

We feel the malevolence

Of this state,

And feel the greed,

As we feel the hate,

Tales of despair and vanquish too

We feel the presence of the shrew,

That threatens wood 

And threatens trees

And threatens the very air we breathe,

Ancient and primordial

Harken now to the 

That is neither kind or cordial.