The Huntress and the Cannibal

A stranger on the purple mountain,

howls at the shadow on the moon.

Sings the songs of wolves,

And prays for eternal doom.

Born of a two pence whore,

From the loins of infernal seed,

A blight on all things pious,

A spawn of dubious breed.

Bred to be a bastard reject,

He never really knew his place,

Once he looked at ‘em sideways,

They cut and branded his face.

As he lay on the sidewalk,

All bloodied and raging,

A bluebird scooped him up,

And found him engaging.

They looked for lost stars,

And painted each other blue,

They sang not the songs of love,

but that of a darker hue.

The cannibal and the huntress,

In an infernal cabal,

Killed all the Townsfolk,

And ate them all.

They killed and fed,

Soon their legend grew,

The men with rifles,

Came at them anew.

Shot by the riflemen she bled,

So he begged the mountain Gods,

They heard his vehement prayers,

Found him willing to play the odds.

The Spirits demanded a price,

A price most dire,

She could live only in the moon,

And he would haunt the shire.

I look at the moon still,

She smiles at me from afar,

Our lives intertwined,

In one beautiful scar.

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