The Prayer
You stand there in the ballroom,
Your body not your own.
The sweat running down your check , it feeleth,
Like the vampire’s favorite drink.
Oh!! What beautiful gleaming eyes they say!!
The very ones which feel glazed , dead and blind to you.
Your hands they move,
Yet thy body has lost it’s groove.
The boys , they stareth,
As thou of slender legs hath moveth.
Like thy eyes, they never notice,
That thou O Queen, has looseth her gait.
The brain be there,
The heart isn’t.
The heart, it is dead,
The brain it reigneth.
I pray to thee,
O’ king of despair.
Loved by none,
Except that one.
Bury her corpse,
The brain, make it die.
So, the soul resurrect be,
Let her, again be Queen.
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