The Killing Hour


Haunted.
Roam these creeping woods alone,
With blood-soaked hands and worn-out soul,
Where desolation whips flesh so cold,
And forlorn eyes speak truths untold.
Smile, small girl, smile
Against the world that does not care.
Scream the desperation
Until the raw throat you do tear.
There.
A crimson stain upon your brow,
Drip, drip the mortal wound does sound.
The girl upon her knees let fall,
Screams despair against it all,
"Make me lovely, make me new,
Tear me, rip me along veins so blue."
Bones, bones, oh, beautiful bones
Ever you must call anew.

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