Havoc Suivre l’histoire

Lights fading of candles’ glow,

Who knows how this story goes.

Perhaps it is just a ruse,

Yet it is hard to see past the red hue.

The blood trickles thick,

Across the wooded sticks.

Which lie deep in the willows,

An aching heart mellows.

The man of worry paces in the tavern,

Hears the steps of another closing in on this hour.

His heart ceases from its silent state,

And begins to pick up in pace.

The murderer is near,

He mumbles in fear.

As he killed my wife,

Who died by the knife,

I too fall from my life.

In a fright I scurry,

Hurry! Hurry! I say to Miss Taeley.

As we shuffle behind the bar,

the grim figure enters from the far.

His cloak is drenched,

with a dead stench.

Murderous coward,

who seeks only to be powered.

Though it is love,

That of a dove.

As to why his rage,

Bursted from its cage.

Envy and hate,

Is his dagger and fate.

for whom shall stand in the way,

That of the cloak of grey.