stitched_up_mew (stitched_up_mew) wrote in prose_run_mad,

Of Puppets and Their Dreamers

I kiss the night,
Let this sickness take its hold
There are a thousand angels,
And nine-hundred and ninety-nine are made of stone
I am the princess of the darkest light
Queen of dying spiders
I kiss this glass
And abort the fetus of the night,
My sorrow giggles,
Manically depressed
In in the silence of the tomb,
My weary eyes find rest
Lord, I hate
God, I loathe,
But if my heart is royal
Then pain keeps it clothed
And they will be so rich,
And bloody red and gold and grey,
The silence cries
"Another chance! Another chance!"
While I beg for one more day,
With shimmering golden thread
The color of poppies in the sunset
And of Angel Dust,
You used the night you died
I find myself cold, alone, and somehow bought,
I am the princess of the fallen world,
I am the receiver of
Shattered diamonds and so many flawed pearls
Oh, wise woman of the night,
Goddess of milky things and dim night lights
Take me home,
Take me away,
For, while my soul fights on,
My body dies today
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