Bloodsavage, sister of the raven
The lines of her eyes so dark and sad
In disillusionment, broken by the one
Lying dead within her screams

The Ring of Fire upon her finger
Burns in places, life burns not
Where angels weep in a place of dusk
Of sorrow’s return, and autumn’s arrival

Darkwoods banter, claiming the source
Of angel’s tears lost in her heart
And forever request of a taste so pure
This humble kiss, can it be from her lips?

I have witnessed, on darkwood’s shores,
Her flaming tears turning sand to glass,
In the twilight and shaping the demon’s heart,
Under the season’s gaze, she whispered my name

Her ebony clad gown, a gossamer delight
Her vestal beauty, by virginity possessed
Her undulated step, down a passageway, alone
All bloodsavage, meet the sister of the raven

I have learned how angels weep
We fall forever to avoid the ground,
With the flow of time, and a rippling angel’s tear
As we all drown in a lake of her sorrow

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