Dead roses, scattered
The moon, pale
The mountians, tattered
The branches, frial
Whispers come and go
But never seem to stay
Around the gravestone weeds grow
Inside the tomb she lay
Where she walks beauty dies
Watch as she will pace
Witness her features come alive
As the moonlight hits her face
Her figure, jagged
The palest skin
Her gown, torn and ragged
No life found within
Times wasted away
The final light dies
Inside the tomb she lay
Inside the tomb she cries
Dead tears hit the floor
Where they fell, the ground shook
No salvation to be found
Because it was her own life she took

Trees creek and moan
The wind sends shivers
She lets out a restless groan
With it the candelight quivers
The night grows old
The wind stops blowing
Her skin turns cold
The candles, still glowing
Her eyes scream devistation
As she finds herself without a destiny
Cradled in the arms of her own damnation
Her own life, a memory
 
Copyright © id_die_for_valo, All Rights Reserved