The Necromancer first noticed her magic
at seven, when her cousin passed.
Thunder descended upon her planet
to whisper a soft, solemn song of despair
and she knew, before anyone told her,
she knew death.

At thirteen, Pops followed into darkness,
but the Necromancer saw him again.
He walked her otherworldly dreams
in some distant galaxy, he held her
crying frame, he pleaded between sobs:
Take care of the living.

Still, the Necromancer never ceased to go
into other realms, flirting with the abyss,
colouring neverlands with her imagination.

It all changed when her youngest sibling
Fell.

Now, only sometimes,
when a full moon looms over silver clouds,
only then she peers behind the veil
and visits her brother in another existence.
They talk, they laugh, they cry,
but she always returns home,
because he is the one soul
with the magic to convince her
to live.

"They say dreams come true.
aren't nightmares dreams too?"
She said
"My biggest nightmare was when
  I dreamt of falling for you."
  He sighed
"Guess dreams do come true."

I've played with demons.
As the bright light dwindled.

Got burned by their lies.
I was the moth to their flame.

Dancing with the darkness.
Without a warning sign.

It seemed chaos.
Was my only vice.

Maybe I asked for it.
Just this time.

They took me in.
They spat me out.

Made a home out of my bones.
Made me bleed with a smile.

Some would say I'm tragic.
Some would say I'm manic.

That I'd take a nightmare.
More than I'd take living.

I guess the demons in my dreams.
Are also hidden angels underneath.

As they save me from this aching reality.