Belle Morte
Shes beautiful dead,so no tears are shed.
Srawberry gashes, blood splashes,
empied veins, and sheet stains.
She is a disasterpiece,a lovely diseased.
Her grimace of bliss,and eyes an abyss,
she is cherished.She's even better perished.
She needs no soul,her passion takes toll.
A suicide from lust, her choice was a must,
death her liberation,one and only salvation.
She does it so well, oh pretty belle.
Giving beauty life,the secret is her knife.
She radiates glamour,mouths drop in stammer.
Her death is nessecary,without an adversary.
She is the queen, a making of the unseen.
So gorgeous in her bed,she is beautiful dead.
2006-08-04
23:28:13
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13 answers
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asked by
T-RoZ
2
in
Arts & Humanities
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