Greens and silvers enfold
An endless and vast façade
To bits of smothered asphalt
Lying on a deserted neighborhood
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Velvet petals of wisteria crippled
Walls of stoned edges burnt with ashes
By graze of sun staining deep scratches
To a marbled pathway twinkling miseries
In a torn and hunted ambiance
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'Twas gray and sick in its looks
But then showed brilliant lights of blue and violet
Died and blown away
Peeling a century of its finest glorious days
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Vines of ivory adorned such gaunt face
Echoes of flapped wings break the inconceivable silence
The place has its own shadowy existence
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Marked by a house ages ago scattered craftiness and mockery
Tongues blazed red cursed every being who laid a step on it
The ending of them are a horrible event to gossip
-
Even to blunt their names was a sin to commit
Magic that strongholds life chained with rage and obsession
To humans bound to erase their very existence
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Beauty has its irony of creating havoc here
Dances of lilies ought to protrude bliss
Silent hums of cicadas freed traumas
Just as morning dews brought angelic whispers
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Black as its darkest the water on the pond
Streaming with elegance as far as I have seen
My eyes flicker with hurt matching the sky
Trapping lucid tears of desolation
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Numb and little I stand against the trunk of a tree
Staring at the house I once lived
Curse my whole soul to show up
I killed this place and painted blood
Blood of witches running through my thick veins
I carved my name in the bark
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Feigning that someone wanted a piece
Of lustrous luxury I inherit
But unbeknownst to them
Still lived the witch, your highest maiden, Medea