Poe's Entryway

The Nevermore awaits you!

With every drop of blood that falls;
does the north wind blow.
Filling your veins with red ice,
more haunting than you know.

Of all the horror you have seen,
you relish one more macbre find,
All dimming in comparison,
to what hides in your own mind.

If only for a moment
you could turn back the hands of time;
Then maybe death would elude you,
And aid in your conscience crime.

Have you no mercy?
Have you no heart at all?
NO! Sayeth the Reaper,
I have come to collect my call.