Once upon a time,
there lived a rabbit named Beatrice.
She was a naughty bunny, always
eating the farmer's cabbages.
One day, the farmer shot her.

We're solemn and trite
Our words, soaked in spite
So often, dismayed
Our hearts are betrayed

I crawl through the night
And, writhe in my spite
I gave up the ghost
I miss Her the most

But, we chose our fear
So often, unclear
There's nothing to say
We both lost our way

Pretending we're fine:
Our hearts crossed the line
We built up this lie
We're waiting to die...

this is the moon's
quiet rose, the unfolding
of the clouds, tranquility
resting her head,
the beautiful sea.