Over the Ridge

Silent night
Unholy night

Beneath the silver popping trees of yuletide, scarlet
spotted pearls lie shivering beside frost covered hazel eyes.

Twisted twin crescent moons grimace at scores of faceless
souls strewn upon fate’s sanguine stage before perishing
within the enslaving silk of the Great Spider Above.

What I tell you three times is true.



*edited after initial posting

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