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A Dance With Death
In the vast realm of shadows they entwine,
A swirling waltz, a haunting dance with death,
The echoes of their steps, a somber chime.
The Reaper's touch, a whisper in each breath,
Embracing lives, enthralling souls with fear,
Yet darkness births a beauty, cold as death.
And in this dance, a family drawn near,
With skeletal embrace, a wicked grin,
They sway and twirl, no falter, no tear.
A father leads, his presence dauntless, grim,
His body draped in whispers of despair,
Beside him spins a mother, frail and dim.
Her eyes, like vacant voids, devoid, aware,
With each spin death escapes, claims a soul,
As shadows intertwine, they are a pair.
Then comes a child, innocent and whole,
Eyes filled with life, yet tainted by demise,
Dancing with death, her laughter takes its toll.
Her tiny steps so nimble and precise,
She flutters like a ghost, a haunting sight,
Her hands, a delicate touch, dancing ice.
A dance with death, her birthright, her birthright,
Her descent into darkness, her own fate,
A twisted bond that cannot be untied.
Yet in the depths, another dance awaits,
With figure clothed in darkness, evil's son,
The devil tempts and lures, he dominates.
His fiery eyes ignite, the wicked one,
He leads astray, seducing souls so pure,
In this waltz with evil, all hope is gone.
A brother falters, falls into the lure,
His morals stripped away, his soul corrupted,
As demon's dance, all bonds become a blur.
A dance with the devil, deeply disrupted,
A family withered, edges further skewed,
The echoes of their footsteps interrupted.
But in this dance, amidst the darkness rude,
A sister rises, spirit strong and bright,
A guiding light, her essence unsubdued.
She dances with life, her steps ignite,
A harmony of love, a sense of grace,
Against the current, she braves the fight.
Her laughter echoes, fills the empty space,
Restoring hope to those within her sphere,
A dance with life, a steady, gentle pace.
Though death may come, and devil's whispers sear,
The family dances on, embracing strife,
In macabre grace, this tale of love, severe.
© NightSwimThePoet
A swirling waltz, a haunting dance with death,
The echoes of their steps, a somber chime.
The Reaper's touch, a whisper in each breath,
Embracing lives, enthralling souls with fear,
Yet darkness births a beauty, cold as death.
And in this dance, a family drawn near,
With skeletal embrace, a wicked grin,
They sway and twirl, no falter, no tear.
A father leads, his presence dauntless, grim,
His body draped in whispers of despair,
Beside him spins a mother, frail and dim.
Her eyes, like vacant voids, devoid, aware,
With each spin death escapes, claims a soul,
As shadows intertwine, they are a pair.
Then comes a child, innocent and whole,
Eyes filled with life, yet tainted by demise,
Dancing with death, her laughter takes its toll.
Her tiny steps so nimble and precise,
She flutters like a ghost, a haunting sight,
Her hands, a delicate touch, dancing ice.
A dance with death, her birthright, her birthright,
Her descent into darkness, her own fate,
A twisted bond that cannot be untied.
Yet in the depths, another dance awaits,
With figure clothed in darkness, evil's son,
The devil tempts and lures, he dominates.
His fiery eyes ignite, the wicked one,
He leads astray, seducing souls so pure,
In this waltz with evil, all hope is gone.
A brother falters, falls into the lure,
His morals stripped away, his soul corrupted,
As demon's dance, all bonds become a blur.
A dance with the devil, deeply disrupted,
A family withered, edges further skewed,
The echoes of their footsteps interrupted.
But in this dance, amidst the darkness rude,
A sister rises, spirit strong and bright,
A guiding light, her essence unsubdued.
She dances with life, her steps ignite,
A harmony of love, a sense of grace,
Against the current, she braves the fight.
Her laughter echoes, fills the empty space,
Restoring hope to those within her sphere,
A dance with life, a steady, gentle pace.
Though death may come, and devil's whispers sear,
The family dances on, embracing strife,
In macabre grace, this tale of love, severe.
© NightSwimThePoet
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