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Fairytale
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Dark Poetry Laying strewn about the floor, not strong enough and far too sore.
I wish that I could give you more than fairy tales and luscious lore.
I cannot feel the beating heart that is slowly being ripped apart.
Time stands still without a start.
Blood seeps out in tasteful art.
Bones and breath begin to break, as gathered all that I can take.
Everything you see is fake, only phantoms that you make.
Love is nothing but a tale, a ship that you can never sail.
The waters here are far too pale.
To fight them we are sure to fail.
The fairytales begins to fold; the stunning fables, stale and cold.
Nothing here will break the mold, as the heart beneath this chest grows old.
