Satan's Harlequin

Whisper as you read this,
whisper a darkened spell.
The girl that's writing through me
is a wraith embraced by Hell.

Demons shriek and angels sob,
fire scorches the ground.
She screams and cries and wails for help
but utters not a sound.

Her skin is burned to scarlet,
her blood is molten ash.
She cackles on her banshee throne,
her mouth a jagged gash.

Those eyes could impale your soul,
that tongue could cut your heart.
Contagious insanity warps your mind
as you tear yourself apart.

Shadows writhe and shadows race
to poison you with the night.
If you've not yet had a heart attack
you'll likely die of fright.

Their queen is true a wicked one,
shackled to her crown.
Possessed by Satan's harlequin,
her life lies underground.

Then in the silver moonlight,
there rings a shaken scream
as she finally is woken up
from her wicked little dream.