Mother

This gift of death never blessed with subtleties kiss
Frost for roses
The art of matricide is lost in colder gardens
Better suited for glassy souls cut with diamonds
Vermillion at war with ivory
Like rouge lips upon pale flesh
I gift these things
Playful with sin
I gift these things
Frost for roses?
A bemusment of sorts
Harsher truths never tasted so sweet
The folly of enchantment lies within bedazzeled eyes
Sweet mother
Smothered
Insane in utero
Children weep not tears of love
Damnation with a smile
The sun far above absent in its genious
An abortionist's dream this milenia of afterbith
And I laugh
Hysteria
Over yonder past the roses
Oblivion awaits