Give It to Me Instead

Harsh and grey are the desolate lands.

The fog enveloped caused great concern.

Lightning flashes as the storm demands.

Whispers heard aren’t enough to discern.

This place is filled with dread.

Souls not found, just cold and unclear.

There is an ever-present fear.

What will come next, we do not know.

Can she take yet another blow?

This place is in her head.

The moon’s slumber yields her no relief.

Spectres give visions of the gallows.

Confusion, worry, and fear are chief.

The crows are waiting in the shadows.

Her world of the undead.

She’s fought so long, for all her life.

Running from demons that cause strife.

She’s weary but not yet broken.

This hell has been her emotion.

Give it to me instead.