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Born in a Burial Gown

Sibilant and macabre, Walpurgis sauntered in

Skies litten with five-pointed stars

The work of crafts surpassing sin

As she graced her window ledgeAn orphaned gypsy nymph

This issue of the forest's bed

Skin flushed with sipped absinthe

Her eyes revealed, as Brocken's peakTried once concealing hell

A snow white line of divine freaks

In riot, where they fellThe circus lurches in, a ring of promised delight

For seven days and seven festival nights

What wicked wonders lie within the confines

Of the panther's denShe watches from a maypole, on the rip of her tongue

The restless spirit of Christmas to come

A Gretel sick of merely sucking her thumb

Than gingerbread menSpawned scorned, abhorred by the aerial

She was the light of the world going down

War-torn, forlorn and malarial

She was found born in a burial gownUnloosed, the chain of her god-given cross

Seduced, now pagan ribbons swathe her repose

In a carnival of souls sold and similarly lostToo many decades misfit and mislaid

In innocence, a tender legend of prey

Parades her second coming, now they're running afraidSpawned scorned, abhorred by the aerial

She was the light of the world going down

War-torn, forlorn and malarial

She was found born in a burial gownNow she moves with a predator's guile

Beyond the firelit circle of life

She soothes your cold heart for a while

Then matches its beat, syncing in with a knifeShe wrestles her dreams with a delicate case

Espied by her cross on the wall

And should she awake, through embrace or mistake

She would take Jesus bless foot forward and allSibilant and at last

The circus crawled away

With another lover in its arms

Dancing on her grave

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