On All Hallows Eve the veil grew thin.
The moon was bright, the starlight dim.
She laid her cards upon the table
And read the times as she was able.
With crystal orb and deck of Tarot,
With talent deep within her marrow,
She watched the year to come unwind,
Birthing images in her mind
Of horrors, joys and blood yet unshed,
Of a handsome lover new to her bed,
Of death for both beloved and strange,
But one painful thing would never change:
The visions seen with her witch’s art
Would remain locked within her heart.
Her curse, her gift, her ancient sorrow,
To leave others blind to their tomorrow.


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