𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕪 ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

*𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕠𝕝𝕝*

Tumbling ringlets, pale strung gold

Will draw you to her sweet, sharp cold

Glassy eyed, she'll grab your lungs

And steal your breath

And tie your tongue

Porcelain, her skin, like cream

Will brush your cheek in honeyed dreams

She'll fill you up, then drain you dry

And break your will

And black your sky