Love is a war
Played like a game

These feelings are pawns
Marching to the flames

Burning passion blue
The blood trickles down

Who has time for fashion
When there are stains on the gown?

Her eyes weep gentle tears of blood in the cold and dead of midnight
Standing, shuttering, with the crimson stained knife in the candlelight

“I’m in love”, she whispered softly to the rag doll on the shelf
Smiling serenely, her insincerity masking her true self

With blood-stained hand and shifting eyes she lifts the butchered head
The sweet smell of death rotting intoxicating her evil spread

She slaughtered her love with the knife he gave her only the day before
All she wanted was to be with him forever and nothing more