SHE rose to his towering rule,
The plaything of his life -
Love's rusting tool,
Of husband and wife.

She hath paid her heart's due -
Once struck by Death's love bow,
Her senses laid few,
Far from what she used to know.
Her heart lays upon Death's trail,
Bleeding endless waves -
Forevermore without fail,
Until she meets the graves.

Love she missed in the new day,
Of glorious awe -
Under the showers of May,
Her beating heart still raw.

Unmentioned tensions galore,
In that home just down the road,
The marriage they both bore -
Where blood soon flowed.

Alas, the man's mind!
Possessed was he,
By Death's kind -
To forever torment she.

Bleak stormy dreary eve,
Where an ominous draft -
Set Death's yarn to weave,
Death's conniving craft.

Spirits had swallowed he,
Consuming his soul -
And burdening she,
So the funeral bells may toll.

This phantasm he may abide,
Love's ending scythe -
Against her butchered hide,
The forces Death may writhe.

And behind that home,
Just down the little road -
The blood may roam,
For the marriage she abode.