The passion
of sorrow...

My Muse,
who dreams of darkness...

A love sonnet
written in the blood...

You said you couldn't wait,
because you love me...

A pillar of strength,
to rest my tired form against...

For those who wander
in the dark of Night...

No three words truer,
no three words more trite...

All for you,
dear bloody Valentine...

It wasn't me
you want...