Bast
New Member
But gentle violets weeping with the dew
Posts: 6
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Post by Bast on May 22, 2011 13:19:26 GMT -5
See how she mocks with stone eyes, As chilling as a buried bone, She dances on with eerie glee, To a deafening and heavy drone. Her frozen hands touch everything, Leaving us a trail of war, She dances through the minefields, To a sad and dreary score. Her hands are covered in cuts, Where she bled into our streams, The becks are riddled with sickness, Still she dances to maddening beats. The woman from the mountain, That dances through our dreams, Is killing us with hex and curse, Until only she breathes.
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