#hiddenpuns

The crows sing a captivating tune.The billows of fog cut through in it’s rocketing power, a melody so obscene for a lullaby and nonviable to replicate. The glamour of feathers a glossy sheen, too slick and beguiling for the ghastly eyes. The hollows that hold the polished beads are shallow as the grooves in the great winding trunks, carving intricate patterns for a sharp eye to marvel. But be careful of how the song leads your way in the maze of leaves , for whilst young and jubilant in starting, it’s age will catch up and sing of warning. Warning of what none have told the tale, their bones broken and marrow devoured, what’s left carving the patterns and rituals of the murders.