the tombstones were waiting
they were half E N G R A V E D
they knew it was over
just didn’t know the D A T E
the blood in my veins isn’t made from S O F T, pretty nets of stars.
do NOT describe me with your pale words ; LILIES, ROSES, and SUNLIGHT.
these are T E M P O R A R Y treasures with a soft touch ; I am an IRONWORK of needles.
a simple collection of plated armor and R U S T I N G C H A I N S, grinding gears catching on DUST and DIRT and SCARS.
i will walk through F I R E and emerge POLISHED and SHARP.
i am DENTED and TARNISHED and S T I L L ;