With long disheveled locks she moans and
wails beneath full moon, oh lips trembling
with disgust, observes white lies and truth
that’s well hidden by the media.
‘What idiosyncrasy is this that allows folks,
to retreat from death,’ she muses, her eyes
stone cold. She longs to pierce through the
madness that threatens peace.
She frowned in wrath, with crimson robes
billowing, in the restless wind, flailed both
arms, and let out, a blood-curdling scream.
She could not digest news as she heard it.
Photo credits: Pinterest
I chose to write about a mythical creature known as Banshee. Read more
Posted for Sunday Mini-Challenge @ Real Toads