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poems about me, my life, and nothing else.
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

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