Match Girl

Spent matches fallen on the indifferent stone

Walk fast now, lest you awaken the crone

Poor girl’s soul, gone twisted beyond belief

Waiting for stranglers under Christmas wreath

Eyes smolder with malice  in the restive dark 

Colder than a Siberian winter with evil spark

Twisted hands catch you and siphon your heat 

To drag you down and silence your heartbeat

Hurry, take her bones and give them their peace

Put her father in prison, let the horror cease.