Depravity

Pearled Diana, What dost Thou want from me? A whirl of fresh air descents from your perfect symmetry Phantomed voices; dance now my mind vocally Like statue-esque echos from beloved house Báthory. For is it truly You, who speaks so woefully? a portrait; the Goddess bathed in sky filled jewelry, Nymphomaniac, Necrophilic graced by Death supposedly. "I - the Filth in Her womb blessed with grave poetry." or is it but me, isolated by Death's ovary. Mother Moon, for Thou I refuse it to be! Now I know Lady death clawed me unknowingly... This pale seductress in black spectres my anxiety. Depression, Suicide, The Razor's depravity