12-moonchild_domain-gw

The witch by the grave
Wielder of demonic voice
Profane mistress, captor of sin
She walks in fear, ill and awake
A crinol women in black, ritual seduction
A leech on the void and with eyes of chains
And tethers, the tears never rest
A moth on the wing, caressing forms of flesh
A void calling to those who fall
Shame offerings for her children's sake
An ode to the sicker of skind
To burst the raw wounds and holy infants
Tempting the glass, poison their wine
The young harlots who asked for the crass of her pain
Cut beneath the hands of doom, the grandmaster of pain
For birth and others, the ground came, the plague comes
Evil superior siren, moonchild domain
A sculpture towards the holy to burn, to burn, to burn