Wilted petals make like dying moths
fluttering; it's the danse macabre!
As heartbeats fasten
eyes dilate
they cannot prepare themselves
for the impact
shaken we feel derelict
in this place we call home
the earth begins to crumble
and the heat starts to swell
yet butterflies nest in your hair
The sweet fragrance of sin
O! what a temptress.
But let's not forget
you wanted this
You simply begged for this to last
for eternity
And now we're coming
Your last debt to society
To rid the world of your
disgusting. hideous.
character.
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