It's her wedding day.
All gests have arrived.
All have been seated, they all drink fine wine.
The orchestra is playing,
The audience seat still.
Here comes the bride.
Here comes the bride;
Small wooden coffin put down on the grass,
Beautiful flowery patterns are curved by an artist hand around the cover glass.
Innocent child lies underground, sentenced to eternal sleep.
A rotten apple and wither rose are her only company to keep.
Blue lifeless eyes are hidden under closed eyelids.
Dry and ones soft lips decorate her peeling milky skin.
Her dead expression is covered deep under layers of blush, and a veil and a lid.
She was slaughtered by envy, by hatred by greed;
He wanted her secrets,
He opened her chest and made her hours to bleed.
The white wedding dress was fixed, washed and cleaned;
Dressed over fresh wound, fresh scar; but no beat.
I And
Drunk on ego, truly thought I could make it right if I
Kissed you one more time to help you face the nightmare but
You're far too poisoned for me
Such a fool to think I could wake you from your slumber
That I could actually heal you.
בבלוג זה
בכל הבלוגים
כינוי:
Nikolett