My horns of tree trunks; Lift my fragile head,
Born in the image of Venus; I live my life to regret.
Delicate locks of golden brown; They'll flow like a river downwards,
As leaves will begin to crowd; Hiding my own bosom.
Hidden behind the willow tree; Shall stand both a woman and girl.
One in each other, just simply in different worlds.
A desperate glance of despair, falling from eyes of the young,
A hopeful glare of happiness as the woman looks towards the air.
Laying amongst the dirt, the rough ground and grit,
it dirties my hands and covers my fingertips.
I sprawl outwards like a cat, relaxing below the sunshine,
I close my eyes as the sun becomes nothing more than a nightlight.
Sweet Taurus; It's whomst I am;
Sweet Lady of The Lamb.
I live this life as a mortal being,
but dreams of becoming a deity within my mind.
In prayers,
I capture your heart.