Twisted
I wonder if you see me ,
if you really care,
If I’ve become some spirit ,
just passing through you there.
A will’o'wisp with no real form,
to tie me to your sphere,
I am just a haint to you ,
with naught to hold me here.
We used to be lovers bold,
and cared naught who saw,
held tight with bands of brightened gold,
without a taint or flaw.
But you have found another,
who’s caught your soul from thee,
torn it like a paper mask,
worn on Hallow’s eve.
So tis not I , the haint,
but you my dear,
and you don’t realize,
the spider caught you in her web ,
and drained you with her lies.
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