My delicate sleeper has a twisted mind,
tales of his soulmate weaved with a soft terror that fails to shake his soul.
Surrounded by soulless figures with no character.
Floating.
Chanting.
Their knives of satan embedded deep within kin.

My delicate sleeper has a twisted mind,
the beautiful gold embroidery enclosed in an attractive horror.
His eyes hold the blue of holy water,
his dreams hold the blades of lucifer.

I love it.
I love my little delicate sleeper.
I wouldn't have him any other way.