The GirlBirthed by two rains, one fresh, and one cold, the youngling was discovered by the watch of the old.
A prodigy she was, with her clear-rounded eyes, she viewed souls as gems without shades of wise.
After comprehending such hopelessness and foolishness within all, her soul inflamed and compelled them to fall.
One by one they tumbled down, their pleads unheard for they were without a sound.
Their flesh melted quickly and their souls vanished fast, there was nevermore a sound coming from them, at last.
And once the suffering and screams finally ceased, the girl disappeared for now all was at peace.
The BowThe clock has stuck twelve, my departure is now, I must bid you farewell, it's time for my bow.
My life is a show, the curtains now shredded, the stage collapsed, and the cast beheaded.
The crowd loudly shrieks and roars at my lines, they find them paltry and without "proper rhymes."
They cease to find beauty in my works of art, all their eyes see is a grievous heart.
And as I utter my final words, all falls silent and my soul swiftly bows.
Her Crystalline EyesHer crystalline eyes in the blood-lit moonlight, spread such and fear to all.
Their silver-blue sheen entrances many, it shadows the stolen, until they fall.
Countless slaves born from her captivation, none dare to object thus her eyes foresee.
You seem to love her, you pitiful moron, why hast thou left a beauty like me?
Come With MeCome With Me
As the moon arises from the ocean sea, my soul disappears, won't you come with me?
But it seems you're afraid, the dead world isn't bad, there are millions of skeletons and souls at hand.
They'd love to meet you, to rip off your flesh, and to lead you to our king who would devour your soul, fresh.
You'd become one of us after that painful journey, but dearest you love me, so won't you join me?
The Dead CrowThe dead crow flies across the plentiful white grass.
Its decaying wings echo through the broken shards of glass.
Glass that was from windows and a shattered heart, one that could never be repaired, nor ever torn apart.
The crow glances down but doesn't care, for his soul and heart rest within the air.
The Lonely HouseThe Lonely House
Across the plains, lies a lonely house.
None ever choose to visit it, not a human nor a mouse.
It lies in a grassy field, tattered and torn, the roof tilted over, it's so very forlorn.
This house sees the rains, the trees and the stones, but the only inhabitant is now a bag of bones.
A once loving owner is deep underground, a plague of silence is the only sound.
And soon to think this house shall fall, no, it shall not, for it still remains tall.
Taller and prouder than the houses far away, it shall always live to see another day.