there she sits, posture poised, in a silken black chemise
on the bench, with a song, fingers perched above the keys.
there she is, very still, almost nearly china-like,
crimson lips, bloodless skin, her hair blacker than your eyes.
there it spills, blessed light, as a circle on the stage,
it conceals, it reveals, keeps the shadows off at bay.
there they sit, voicelessly, giving her their silent praise,
angels pure, demons foul, only there to watch her play.
then she breathes, one sharp gasp, as her finger presses D,
she proceeds, faster now, for her mind is under seize.
hear the sound, listen close, it's her madness in disguise,
through the notes, it's her voice, delirious; let it rise.
what's this now? one mistake? and with that they all agree,
her slight slip, one note off, prob'ly was the letter E.
there she goes, hastier, fingers fly across the keys,
no brief lull, hear her soul, for now it's the one diseased.
and with that, there's a change, as her frenzied song ballets,
a key change, written in, brings the music to an A.
angels weep, demons dance, one step closer to their goal,
look at her, poor young girl, spirit under their control.
and alas! here it comes! with the angels' final plea,
in a rage, most insane, she concludes it on a D.
suddenly, all are hushed, as one strides upon the scene,
tall and dark, in mystique, handsome as they all can be.
he then sighs, "darling dear, your dark heart's now mine to take,
for you played, i'm quite charmed, all my sense i do forsake."
she looks down, all blood drained, with a feeble sound of hate,
he swoops down, shows a knife, seals her cruel, painful fate.
blood drips down, on her skin, her face now looks wan and pale,
for her mind, then her soul, her spirit and heart had ailed.
