Miracles Aren't Real

Silence

Such a pretty face,

adorned with stitches laced across your lips

that of a cheshire's, with hilarious glint

Battle on, sway lightly, little dancer

sing your mournfully silent ballad

in your tattered skirt and blood speckled corset.

Dip and glide, show fake bliss

as your stitches tug and rip

and with your velvet fingers, grab hold of your fleeting end

hold it by the hilt as if a blade, with shaky, apprehensive hands

Just push it through your flesh,

the binds of your chains

Through your heart and through your guilt

Dance no more for the gaunt faces of the truly wicked

Just send me postcards, okay?

its okay, I know you will........

Give me a pictire of your saccharine smile,

that was bound tight, and made bitter, no doubt

I'll see you again

through your stitches , through your dying dreams &final wishes

I'll follow you anywhere! even past the point of death, if I may!

face it we all know its true, because what bound you,

is what has bound me too

we'll both burn in hell, what they said was poisonously true