• In this dark room,
    A king on his throne.
    Shrouded in ice,
    Solemn and alone.
    Blue is his skin,
    Black is his heart.
    He is a man
    Who makes mischief an art.
    Sleek black hair,
    Glossy like ice
    His smoldering glare
    Makes women swoon and stare.
    "They call me Loki,
    Lying is my game.
    Come to me, woman.
    Tell me your name."
    Closed by a spell,
    Trapped in his lies,
    And led around blind,
    She can't open her eyes.
    She's surrounded by death,
    What she sees is love.
    Falling for a raven
    Disguised as a dove.