She enters the room, the Angel of Death,

With sharp stench of blood stale on her breath

Her feet make no sound, but her wings fill the air

With the winds of regret and manic despair

I stand in her shadow, the grim desolation

That curses her prey with eternal damnation

She’s the Boogeyman’s Daughter, the undead song

Of a thousand cursed lives gone terribly wrong

But they follow her still, for her face is cut ice

To gaze on that beauty, life is the price

But, though gullible souls may cling to her shrine,

I will stand firm; she will not have mine

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2 thoughts on “The Boogeyman’s Daughter

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