CAMELOT FANTASIES

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SOMETHING WICKED

Something wicked, this day comes.
Loneliness, is hells drum.
Beating, to the darkness.
Placates, to the killing ov some.
Listening, to winds that howl.
As the creatures, ov night prowl.
That ov the soul, that whithers thru.
Holds on, to spirits true.
Creatures, ov the spiritual kind.
Always hunt, from inside.