deepundergroundpoetry.com
She walks in death
She walks in death, like wilted roses
Of soulless statues and abandoned tombs
And all that’s evil of night and day
Meet in her darkness and her dead eyes
Thus has not mellowed, her vengeful light
Which hell to gaudy night denies
One shade more the pitiful lies
Had half impaired her nameless grace
These waves in every golden tress,
Hiding the hideousness o’er her face;
Where thoughts express her sorrow
How impure, unclean dwelling in that secret place
And on that cheek, and o’er her scarred face
Once soft, so calm yet eloquent
The smiles vanished, the glow now perished
Tell the days how once vibrantly was alive
A mind no longer in peace with all below
A heart whose love once innocent departed
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