Deathless
I will hold my hands with an air of grace.
I will walk with an essence that would shame death.
I will stone-heartily smile at the chaos that erupts
Around me.
My face sleek like the underworld
Will shine with the screams of mortal men.
I shall be proclaimed of Ruin.
The sister of The Dead.
The Mistress of Death
Copyright © Olivia Struthers | Year Posted 2015
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