Obituary
With a turn of the knife her blood runs deep,
Mine love it is time for her sleep.
Divine Master paint her thoughts with a lie,
As she hurts and wants to die.
Lips of red with her blood, Gothic Princess thy queen,
Her death my brother was unforeseen.
No less tragic feel thine her sorrow,
Save her body for the obituary tomorrow.
Copyright © Repunzelle Garland | Year Posted 2005
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