not dead, vampire, woman

The Labyrinth

A forest of impenetrable darkness,
And fearsome loathing of the unknown,
Made her knees shake and shiver,
With the sound of the ether,
……On a flight, no other soul would ever know.

In the silence and the darkness,
The darkened silence of that moment,
In the Labyrinth of Hell,
And along the Corridor of Despair,

She sang a ghostly tune,
To the flight that did sojourn,
Through the ghastly Halls of Hell,
On bequest of her Lover,
……The One that has yet to be unveiled.

She was drawn into this labyrinth,
That twisted through the vines,
The vines that wrapped a web of trickery,
And deceit upon her mind.

How could she trust another?
When this twisted, unknown Lover,
Sent her spiraling into the abyss,
Of such misery and scorn?
……A Mystery of the Mourned.

The Banquet of the Dead appeared,
In this winding Hall of Hades—feared,
And raindrops fell like tokens,
Crashing on the moor.

On every nook and cove,
Of that cursed and bedeviled trove,
She drove deeper into the labyrinth,
Of her mind.
……Forever searching for the Unknown Lover of her soul.