Rain turned to ice,and lightning splintered, it splicedthe black sky, it seeped a bright white.All animals they fled,from the sky as it bled,pale death that fell veiling the night.

Wrath crawled out from the well,on direction from Hell,to get back what it once lost.With vengeance in mind,it set out to find,a specified soul to accost.When the Hell-well beckoned,Mother__ will now reckoned,her dead soul now wholly enslaved.Embodied in a rotting husk,the corpse reeked of putrid musk,her being wholly depraved.

The whole thing becomes like this evil enchantment from a fairy tale, but you're made to believe the spell can never be broken.

Now of course in hindsight, such a wonderful thing, though never around when you actually need it, I know that I always loved her deeply.

The truth is often of no consequence.

Only what you choose is what makes you.