Unraveling

The Oaks Of Hellish Girls

As I crept through the night,
I stumbled over the roots of olden trees,
Their wisened boughs holding beautiful girls,
Their gowns of silk and long, ivory limbs draped over one another,
Tangled in a strange embrace,
Their eyes bored and their lips blue.

I was fearful of them,
The blood at their fingers vividly fresh,
Violet flowers crowning their manes of redish brown locks,
They whispered of youth and the time they longed for home.

They beconed me closer,
Their voices crowding my mind,
The way they spoke my name,
It sounded like hunger.
My knees gave.
And before them,
I kneeled for eaons.

— The Oaks Of Hellish Girls