Born from the screams of a dying witch,
A gothic dame, a wicked little bitch.
Falling from the skies in a thick gloom
Playing with hearts, where shadows bloom.
She mourns the death like lover's game,
None dare whisper or call her name.
She may be broken but needs no cure,
Reflection of darkness, her path unsure.
Her memory's sharp, full of secrets untold,
Keeper of unspoken grief, black and cold.
Darling of the night, doomed to kiss,
Vengeance in her heart, too hard to miss.