Red roses, white roses
The aria of pain
The aria of sorrow
The black bird whistling

Alone, sitting in a corner
A cage of darkness
A façade of obedience
Tears, an indecipherable curse

Alone, walking on the
Path of shattered stars
The beauty of macabre
The beauty of innuendos

Alone, talking to myself
A ship of shattered dreams
The great sea yearns, my
Escape to a palliated hell

Alone, I hold the scythe
Bearing flames of hatred
The window filled, with
Barbaric, serrated icicles

Under the white moon
Black roses, efflorescing
One by one, morosely
I cut, I cut, and I cut

Thirteen harpsichords play
Mutilating my body, unblessed
Pleasantries broken, snapped
My childish echoes of plight

Fear of hedonism
I fall, aimlessly into
A black hole of despair
My fraying hope of sanity