by Nick Gisburne
Do not pretend to know the witch’s art
The truth you try to touch is not a toy
Pathetic herbs and crystals play no part
In magic meant to murder, to destroy
There is no righteous aspect of the Black
Its path will never lead you into light
The mind you thought impossible to crack
Will shatter if you hesitate, or fight
Accept the gift. Embrace the darkness. Breathe
But power, purest evil, has its price
A weapon even angels could not sheathe
Requires a bloody, brutal sacrifice
The spirit sealed inside you is the key
A child. A son. Surrender it to me
