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Rated: E · Poetry · Spiritual · #2325227
I will rot with the skeletons of loveless lovers, I will die a hopeless romantic.
A fool, a jester in the court
a slave who always goes begging for love
I end up loving as a last resort
I live my somber life in it's lack thereof

My love,
a flame that doesn't catch on a candle
a star that doesn't shoot from the sky
a soldier who never wins his battle
a sight that can't be held by a human eye

And I breathe in the flowers of spring
when I burn in the fire of my heart
and dance to the Bluebell petals ring
until a lover shall tear me apart

My lover,
ties me to wings with which I cannot fly
leaves me with rot as I begin to flower
won't toss a rose on my tomb when I die
left me with monsters and called me a coward

And I drown in depths deeper than the sea
I wait for the day when truths turn to lie
and what's left of the world, is just me
lingering with the berries that have gone dry.

When I tear the wings off the last angel,
that's when I learn that my love is fatal.
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