gaia_nitemareright A little girl comes out to play She dug her way from the ground Her lips are sealed with nothing to say The night continues in soft sounds Moon glow dresses phantom perfumes Cob wed messes and bone carved dolls Faintly heard the soft hunting tones Ravens feathers and a wolfs lonely calls Withered roses clasped in her fingers Her body is dead but her heart still lives Wind racing the night never to linger The abyss of solitude she did not dive Only forced into it doth taken away And now she wait for someone to play gaia_nitemareright
ScarletSorrows · Sun Mar 18, 2012 @ 03:06am · 0 Comments |