Cantus, can't us dominate the diminuendo [to make a crescendo]?

Oh, harrowed harried Halloween,

Where did thou go in need of such time?                   Alone.

I've embroidered patterns palletted across my face,

to tell truth in hinds eye.

Though, in hindsight perhaps it is not   (.)

That diminutive dyad dart was wound all arnd

wrapping my hollowed heart so it couldn't be seen protruding,

no,  you did not know it was there-

So when its projecting prickle lied bare across yr cheek,

scraping ever so gently-

and I felt that 'stick in my craw'...

It was as if the witches cackle had turned calloused and cold.