Stillborn

graveyard

Once I was my own demise; a starving cheek kissed by fate
I sat alone in a garden of syringes and saints
Waiting for someone to find me

A shadowed stranger with a crucifix for my tainted heart
A man masked with a mirror and a butterfly stare
Came to purge my sins

The transcendent petals wept from the cherry blossom
They shed their tears for me as I sewed shut my life
For I have no pearls nor perfect deeds

I’m still living…
I’m still breathing…
This heart keeps beating…
But there is no feeling…

I am nothing but a poppet animated by my grief
Frail; my body is a hoodoo doll of holes and hollows
Awaiting a dark embrace

StolenĀ from myself by a perfect fallen angel; black with lies
I lost my heart for a chance to see the truth
And so i sit plucking out the thorns of deceit

I waste away in this graveyard garden; void and silently staring
Waiting for that shadowed stranger with a four cornered knife
To break this spell of death

I’m still living…
I’m still breathing…
This heart keeps beating…
But there is no feeling…