(October Second Ninteen-Seventy-Four / Grace Maternity Halifax)


there is a stolid misunderstanding
about this unfortunate unusual creature
a throw back given the road to insanity
shunned, cast out by societal standards

her raven black wings are oddly mishapen
feathers cover her from the neck down
a sorrowful scream seems to suit her demeanor
she throws it into the night with vengance

an eerie reply echoes back to her ears
her own pathetic cry brought back in disgrace
can i pity this sorry malformed discontent
should i fear and loath her coming

come now, have you met this thing you fear
did you know who she really was
before her appearance sent her into oblivion
her soul and heart were good and kind

though now an encounter with her should be feared
for nothing of what she once was exists
seeking out the harpy is to embrace death
her power in her voice amplified by exasperation

others encounter hideousness and death
as they seek a slow dance with fates weavings
becoming entangled and entranced in
compulsion created through haunting melody

toned in ranges magically in tune with minds
shall we be content to envision only imagine
why she could not be understood

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