A Ritual Born Of Man And Woman

It’s a night of magic,

four yellow roses at your door,

celebrating the warmth of my touch,

that you don’t feel it anymore,

a strangers glance,

a deathly knock,

the pipers music,

the mice they flock,

a cowards call,

in the night,

suffering it comes,

for you tonight,

you run like a child,

you cower and hide,

for you know the truth,

that tonight is the night you die,

but what is an end,

without an end?

What is revenge,

without pain to avenge?

I loved you once,

it was a moment of  bliss,

but that’s before,

you ended my life with your kiss,

from the grave I arose,

dead yet still living,

with one thing on my mind,

to stop your heart beating.







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