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Emmanuella Michael-Akata Poem
Upon the cliffs where shadows reign,
A fortress looms through endless rain.
Its master waits with crimson eyes,
A curse immortal, a soul despised.
The moonlight pales, the villagers pray,
Yet none escape his cold decay.
Strahd, the Count, with hunger vast,
A love eternal, a spell long cast.
He walks the halls of stone and gloom,
A sovereign bound to endless tomb.
The roses wilt, the candles die,
Yet still he whispers, “She is mine.”
No dawn shall break, no hope shall bloom,
For Ravenloft is but a tomb.
And in its heart, the vampire king,
Rules sorrow’s court, on broken wing.
Copyright © Emmanuella Michael-Akata | Year Posted 2025
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