A whispered curse in the dead of the night,
Turning the soul from the path of the light.
Black magic is woven with envy and hate,
A desperate attempt to alter one's fate.
It feeds on the weak and it thrives in the gloom,
Filling a life with the scent of a tomb.
But those who seek power through spirits and bone,
Will find in the end that they're standing alone.
The mirror is twisted, the reflection is cold,
Trading one's peace for a story untold.
For every dark spell that is cast on a head,
Is a debt to the void that must always be fed.
It poisons the heart and it withers the mind,
Leaving the warmth of the living behind.
What's gained through the shadows will crumble to dust,
Rotten with malice and eaten by rust.
Stay far from the embers of forbidden fire,
That burn through the soul like a funeral pyre.
For the light is a shield that no darkness can break,
Keep your spirit awake for your own sanity's sake.