An empty swing lies over her bones,

Bloodied splinters, melancholic moans.

Far from the maddening townsfolk,

Corpse of a child wrapped in a red cloak.

A mother's cackle cannot reach your ears,

Darkness spreads, so you cannot hear.

But the girl is gone, and the town is dead,

Vacant orbs, malicious dread.

Hearts of coal, painful lies,

Doomed souls, treacherous allies.

The pale winds play with the empty swing,

One last time, before the fall of the King.

Judgement comes from the heavens above,

Cinders of agony, ashes of tarnished love.

Broken pleas now permeate the air,

Crimson scatters, burnt hair.

Smell of fear, charred frames,

Unfilled abodes, a land of shame.

The swing now swings without any qualms,

It is empty no more, is hopeful and calm.