I am a gaze that kills, a serpent's crown of dread, born from a foul rooster-hatched egg. My breath is death, my glance a fatal blight, and only mirrors may show my true, dark might.

I creep in silence across the window pane, a cold white-hue painted by an invisible brush. Though born of damp breath, I hold no life, and with the sun, I vanish in a hush.

I have no tongue, yet stories I weave, In silence I linger, in stillness I breathe. I’m born in a moment, then vanish with light, a hazy vestige at the edge of your sight.

I wear a crown of tiny trees, but yield no shade, nor catch the breeze. My verdant form, a fractal sight, holds hidden depths of bitter might.

I’m born from breath or soapy streams, I shimmer bright with rainbow gleams. I float on air, so light and sly, But touch me once, and I will die.