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Blood waves and skies of sickly pale,

She left the world and brought me hell,

And when the world began to fall,

The glass was spilled

And rolled away

Torrential rains inside a marble left on tilt,

Drowned in obituaries,

And when the end of days comes to set the table still,

You can put my memories in a box, cast them off,

And hope the depths don’t repel

But your stomachs will

Tell me, the desperate tales of anguish,

Did the wolves come down and,

Pray for the starving hands of angels,

Or was it destined to occur, while

The rest of us lay waiting,

For our turn

She was as vivid as her death,

Every page like the stories she had read,

And as her petals fell, the ground collected red and wilt,

(Left in the dirt)

Six feet between the ordinary and nothing felt,

(The lessons learned)

Tell me, the desperate tales of anguish,

Did the wolves come down and,

Pray for the starving hands of angels,

Or was it destined to occur, while

The rest of us lay waiting,

For our turn

The waters shift,

And the clouds are rolling in,

Grey pallor,

And the lightning strikes again,

Gone, in the eye of the storm,

Stripped apart, a dissecting turn,

Dead,

And there’s no bringing it back again

Tell me, the desperate tales of anguish,

Did the wolves come down and,

Pray for the starving hands of angels,

Or was it all earned

All while the fools believe in saviors,

Would they rip apart their hearts,

For a better chance to make it,

If their god asked them to,

Beg for, the crows to take their faces,

Would they take turns