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The Night's Spirit was rare to look at
Her wings of midnight sky,
Shaped like the ones of a bat
Kept her hidden under the shadows,
As she majestically winnowed
This dark-skinned being,
Cloaked those near death
And let their soul run free with a blow of her breath
But ones too cruel
Were stored in her punisher's black jar,
And didn't join the others in the stars
None spoke ill of her
For they thought her to be the very embodiment of fear
And those who did,
Were not even slightly spared
As the last thing they ever saw,
Were her brilliant dark eyes with a silver flare
She rewarded those who respected
With protection from the unexpected
Her gifts, though magnificent,
Were quite costly
That required a small part of the soul from that innocent
She was bowed down to and heavily prayed
But none could mistake that for love,
For of her, all were afraid
This didn't affect her
She had no need for a white knight
After all, her dark powers were the reason,
She was called the Spirit of Night.
-Grisha. S
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THE WINGS OF NIGHT |COMPLETED|
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