A Heroine’s Gothic Ballad

In shadowed chambers, stained and cold,
she faced the Marquis, a decaying hand
reaching for her. The Marquis leered, a story told,
to claim his prize, a power he’d withstand,
with a ruby choker and a crimson noose, to steal her breath away.

Beneath a gilded cage, a tiger’s fury roared,
a growing hunger, mirrored in the eyes of greed.
She faced his rage, a warrior transformed,
with her laughter, sharp as thorns, causing him to bleed
a cut that hurt him deeply, allowing for her escape.

Hidden in the misty woods, where shadows twist and crawl,
whisper tales of a phantom king, with antlers scraping the sky.
She walks amidst the rumours, her courage standing tall.
But the Erl-King’s allure beckons, and she cannot deny
so entwined in his embrace, she defeats him, pulling back his hair.

By the moonlit pines, a chorus of fangs gleam.
A savage pack, wolf-shadows dance, with eyes burning amber bright.
She’s no Red Riding Hood, she faces the fearsome team,
and their fangs may flash, but her laughter roars with might.
Leaving the forest silent, a victor cloaked in lunar silk.

No damsel waits, the power's in her hand,
A gothic queen in Carter's bloody land.