One last time her eyes dart towards the sky Before she says her final goodbye The end is nigh and she, she cries Recounts her crimes And all the times That she made the wrong choice How others took her voice Those boys that destroyed her when she was young Those Lies that stung and stung While among the crowd that watches with pitchforks by their sides She sees first spirits that will act as her guides Towards the land of fire While she will rest her tired body on the pyre Her eyes closed Is it the nothingness she fears the most? Or is it the unknown? click, snap and one final groan
Belltowers chariot signalling distance Towering gallows where I've been sentenced The iridescence of coming doom Graveyard daisies are in bloom Their season is unusually sober They've been growing whole October
So I got high and the next morning found this in my notebook.
How long would it take for people to hear My gallows soundtrack? The rhythmic thud of my leg Hitting the desk every 3 seconds The friction of the rope on the unstable hook That could give out any minute Under the weight of my palid corpse They'll probably only hear it When the hook comes loose from the plaster And my body thumps on the floor They only ever hear the fortissimo Never the piano
Promise me, my flesh you'll place 'neath a fledgling willow tree. And as it grows toward blue sky, It's in its grace you'll hear me cry. Laden with the heaviest fears, resembling, reflecting my darkest years.
A fragile bone was once my arm, so likened to the willows charm. It's branches delicate, could ne'er do harm. It's soft and fluffy hand like bud, encased in skin, the willow's wood.
Hold its hand at branches end. My message, a vibration, to you I'll send. Until the death of said willow tree, reminding you . . . . . . . . . . . always of me.
Poetry by Kaydee.
The tired and deathly willow tree with stories to tell of debutantes, swinging before entering hell.