Intersection Dress

Here I stand on the intersection

Blocking every apparition

That appears before the collision

Of my unearthed passion

The debris it scattered

And the fragments it recollected

Did no good for our Russian Roulette

And my black dress that sweeped

Aiming blade to each direction

And shadow-chasing apparitions

Here I stand, on the intersection

With the devil’s spawn in front

The sinner angel on my left

The lost brothers of long-ago arts

And the mourning ladies behind in red

If I let my blade slip in front

Inferno is the runaway paradise prepared

Yet if I let my blade to my sides

Heaven hold no place for my stained black dress

And the mourning ladies in red

Have no colors that resembles mine

But that is just an extermination

That won’t even matter

For tragic is just a trapped magic

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