Perfection is a necessary evil
but even with the ****** hand gone
her black veil still rests neatly upon her face
for her eyes remain covered reminiscing
in the darkness of her own secret sin
he sees this flaw, this empty husk of a woman
Death
still freshly pressed against her lips, stealing her last breath
she will never awake
he still sees her secret sin
if either man had achieved a profounder wisdom
they might not have flung away their happiness
for the pursuit of purity or science
yet quietly they craved the things so swiftly tugged away from their grasp
a sin still stains the hidden face of man
an indelible mark upon both the afflicted faces
so aged from bitter greed
wanting
needing
Perfection
Still grasping in the time of defeat
so prominent on the face of the man who shows his veil with cloth
with creepy crepe
“Have men avoided me, and women shown no pity...!”
The man cried
The girl Georgiana whispers of her impending mortality
while Parson Hooper rages into the dying light
with quiet longing the mister wanted to be seen
with the black veil married to his face
he accepted it- why could he, the scientist, not,
he still hides
dying for the sake of perfection
and living for the sake of hiding
Grasping at what could never be done
To rip the veil from upon her face
The ****** hand now gone,
He still craved more,
As their eyes close reminiscing in the darkness of their own secret sin,
The hands of all still,
Grasping at the veil,
To see the shame underneath.
