The blood already flowing
As she let down her hair...
In the mist
Of morning dew...
Her wings,
like the fragile, soapy outside of a bubble...
I don't like this feeling
Every time I turn my back to the shadows...
Dust covered fingers
chalk on the pavement...
Every Rose You Have Given Me
Has Left A Scratch On My Wrist...
She walks like water
gentle and suede...
I see a gate
Far across the wonderland...
There is no such thing as magic.
(Unless You‘re An Elf Or Fairy...
Ravens howl in our dreams
We behold nothing around us...
A rose dead by the window sill,
Next to a portrait of the beast...
Deep under the earth
Through a burrowed door...