“
Blood from bone, skin from earth it walks, feet to stone. Darkness brutal, darkness fair it waits, eyes to soul. Words intoned, fire in hand it drinks, marrow from bone. At its feet, I lay sprawled crooked, broken doll it licks, I stare. Red teeth-marks, pattern porcelain skin laid bare. Darkness brutal, darkness fair at last payment for my sin. ~ scrawled on a napkin stuffed into Mom’s grimoire ~
”
”
Rachel A. Marks (Darkness Brutal (The Dark Cycle #1))