Alone in the deep dark depths of the night
stone cold, your blood will become at such an eerie sight
hands folded
across her chest
as blood continues to flow throughout the cuts in her skin
clothed in a gown, black and flowing
like her blood
roses, entwined in her hair
as if someone spent hours fixing them there
skin so pale, so colorless,
like that of a corpse
there is no need to check her pulse
for there is a whole in her chest
where her heart used to be
literally
but the blood keeps its flow
and the heart still beats
upon the pedestal in the garden
the same garden in which she lay
a dagger, clasped between her hands
but no blood stains it
and on her face
her black lips curve
into a smirk
grim, but pleased
you walk through the garden
to the ground where she lay
you look at her
so beautiful, but still in a very sick way
you lean over the body
your breathing getting faster
heart racing with fear
nothing, yes nothing, is the sound that echos so painfully in your ear
you lean a little closer
to whisper your sorrows
and her eyes open
fast and quick
and you are going to be sick
but there is no time
you are going to die
for you have disturbed the living dead
and now, for that, you die
but not slowly
in the garden you will lie
for eternity
everyday
you will wish to die
but you must suffer for your ignorance
you were to entertained to see
all the destroyed souls that lie on the ground of this garden
and now the heart on the pedestal beats a bit more confidently
because you start to bleed black blood
your misery is what keeps her alive
the living dead
as her heart feeds off of yours
