...and the moon that once lit
her fearful nights whined
and faded away.
Followed by dead silence and
purple little itchy things,
and a wall with pale faces
+
injections of fucking pain.
’I am the object, your
damned victim of oblivion’,
she mourned
’why is this falsity put
upon my worned shoulders?’
This was
her petition for mercy before
she let the third female
be the guideline towards
the guillotine.
Then she licked her red painted
nails while thinking of him,
the stranger who
wore
blue and green.
And the most pure soul
she had ever seen,
’Embrace me dear ’cause I can no longer see the flowers in May, nor the white rose of November’,
(Near me)
She stammered in the living room.
There isn’t always tomorrow, so fuck off you fucking facho-faggot,
and someone
else became her moonlight.
Abandoned by the sea...
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