I am the white gothic style driving up the walls like the black widow
Producing the silk threads and weaving a tapestry
Binding strange shadows together to get a bite of that electric heart
Embedded within my eyes, are the emeralds the pirates seek
They travel the seven seas, lost in a frozen fever
Knowing their quest will end when they drink the green poison
We call home, when our worlds collide
As the comets crash into frozen lakes
On a December night we are paranoid by the edge that listens to our fears
This poem seems incomplete to me. I'm not sure. The ending doesn't seem right to me.