The dark flower, mysterious And demonic in its pristine beauty A curse of immortality, Passed down through the ages
From her mind, grand adventures and scenic worlds bloomed beautifully.
Within a broken mind, The shrill cries of cicadas echo Against crumbling ivory bone The cicadas keep crooning, Even in the desolate spaces Where only silence exists Can you hear them?
Drizzling rain pours down, A sullen reminder of The broken promise
Spells spoken by soft, sultry lips Always entrance me far too easily Golden sparks spread From smooth fingertips, trailing along Plush, quivering skin