Why did the child of the blood moon scream?
Why did the child's eyes glow green?
How did the child not grow?
How could the child not possibly know?
The child that would scare the night,
Had no idea of the power of fright.
The child would just stand and stare,
Held a heart of despair.
Ivory fangs would show,
Rough brown hair began to grow.
Slowly crouch right down low,
Watch as the bird would crow.
Power rose full of might,
Would mask all good light.
Nothing else could compare,
Not a soul would merely dare.
YOU ARE READING
Petrichor
Poetry// Petrichor // // 🌏 the pleasant smell of earth after rain💧// Est. 2014 ~ 20.. Copyright LittleAussieDreamer (Alannah Mills) 2020
