Amidst the Mists
Amidst the mists and coldest frosts,
With naked wrists and darkest souls,
She slams her fists against the bars,
And still she screams she sees the ghosts.
Through summer days and autumn nights,
Through season’s end and blinded sights,
They keep her down and clip her wings,
To mute the lovely song she sings.
In troubled times for modest lives,
To see the truth beyond the lies,
As time goes by and death comes 'round,
Her body’s cast upon the ground.
Through hearts of ice and hands of stone,
The devil’s wife’s possessed the throne.
But even though pain’s at it’s most,
She’ll still admit she’s seen the ghosts.
Copyright © Mandy Weaver | Year Posted 2011
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