La bella morte dell'Amore

She's strong as an Oak,
yet delicate as a Rose.
Nature incarnate.

Beauty entrancing,
blinded by her purity,
he is self-loathing.

There is night, and then
there is Darkness; black as ink
his heart tells its lies.

The hatred rises,
gaining strenth, never ending.
Darkness consuming.

Sudden betrayal.
Her temple desecrated,
trust violated.

From a gaping hole,
dreadful crimson sap wells up.
The tree is bleeding.

The blossoms wither
as her life diminishes,
and then nothingness.

True beauty shattered.
His love lost forevermore.
Overwhelming shame.          

Plagued by such regret,
he deems self-condemnation
his only true choice.

The Reaper arrives,
untold horrors await him.
Judgment day has come.