Portrait Of A Pale Lass

Time

My blood stained knife

With silver ornaments

Shine your blade and

Stab me in the back



She stands

Beneath the clouds

Smiling, as her eyes caress the sky

Her head falls back

Her breast sighs



My days

Neverending and faint

The nights full of doubt

Old wounds and burdens



So sweet

Come out and sing



Somewhere between

The study and the hall

Her ear pressed to the wall

The enfeebled lass

Stands and listenes

To the tunes

Of her joyfull past

She caresses gently

Her curly hair

Her glance fixed

Upon the ceiling

And starts to sing