Huldra

Ophelia, Ophelia-

Your cold stung lips are crying.

Ophelia, Ophelia.

The men are not worth dying

For naught, to rot

Drift to the sea.

*

Lovers like

to paint us dead

So pale, wan, and fragile.

Lovely in death

beyond last breath

Venus had consumption.

*

Oh blonde girl, hide your locks away!

The men will only kill you

They think the gold marks you as prey-

So turn into a huldra.

*

Bite back, fight back

Ruin them instead.

Guard your heart.

Leave them

for dead.

 

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