A tempters garden, strewn with misapprehension
Laid upon the bearers shell of vanity; The Libretto
A hand of uncertainty prevails throughout Her
The chance, Ravens are calling, minds hallucinating
Quill to thy script,
Wrists draped in a concealment of crimson
Eyes drenched in the self-pity of Thy Dying Bride
Utterance is whispering His mendacity, but,
Non-other than Himself can retrieve,
His Dying Bride,
The Ravens Mirror Image,
The Coffins Infant
His Graves Ancillary














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