She sits amongst the starlit sky of yesteryear
The dewdrops on sharp blades of grass
Suffocate crimson withering roses with droplets of tears
And those flowers bloodily stain littered shards of broken glass

The moon stains a sky so deeply black
The light poisoning her shadow and its runs and hides
Another thing to be forgotten, to turn their back
And even the sorrowful swan upon the crystalline lake no longer glides.
 
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