I have kissed the lips of death and seen all the beauty of the world within one simple undeniable glimpse. I kissed the devil on his lips and he cringed in horror. Prickly thorns, long horns and scales for skin. Heaven knows nothing of the life I've lived. Darkness fades and my heart grows weaker. Your tongue only grows sweater. Black as night. My appetite is quite profound. I am neither trapped or bound, by the ignorance of men. Are you without contempt that you disregard my disappointment. You are as ugly inside as on the out. I'll feed you to the demons that lurk behind my unveiled curtains. Take a peak...it's okay to share a little scream. In this life no one offers answers to pleas. The floor disappeared from beneath my feet but the age of three. I felt a crinkle of your wicked sin slither onto my perfect skin. It is but the first of many. You are but my horror in disguise. I will not pretend I am but a prize. Many will speak out lies, but my lovely wilted rose, your petals droop only to offer me praise. Your thorns so sharp, so sweet. You creep into my bed whilst I sleep. My emotions run far too steep, they creep beyond the bounds of the sea. I scream, I plea, but words fail to escape. Only in death may I be offered a break. Boat man boat man, take me for a ride on your river of dismay. Bring me to the castle of black rain. Offer me fruits of blood and plenty of wine. It is here I must dine. All the while I look at you and you back at me. You see trees dining in the rays of sun, birds chirping and ripe fruit. I see only blackness, the slow creeping of death. I suppose we only see in others what is truer of ourselves. . .
