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Poem

Lavender candles in the lull of applause,
Overture that begins with only strings.
Vixen of the opera besets this pause,
Ever so gently she produces her wings.
In the middle of her highest note,
Suddenly a phantom pirouettes down.
Bows on stage and seizes her throat,
Usurping the mistress in her gown.
In the uproar of this giant upheaval,
Lust wrought it's wrongs upon the floor.
The man behind the mask was pure evil,
Forging his ultimate plan of insipid gore.
Only devils could create such distress,
Roses scattered over her youthful remains.
Mahogany curtains in a bloodied mess,
A lifeless corpse slowly emptying veins.
Disappearing from the new crime scene,
Music sheets stained with operatic death.
Entering his home where weapons are clean,
Night passes day with a single heavy breath.

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