018 Black Loneliness
Close touch of evening,
Outskirts of thick forest
Like flying crow
On virgin snow
She plods along so modest.
Gothic lady in raven dress
In long sleeve gloves
Nigritude she loves
Bittersweet taste of death.
So cute in her black loneliness
So good without a ruddiness
She never hides but noone looks for.
It's time to step out of emptiness
Not crime to shine like to incandesce
What doesn't kill you make harder for sure.
Another colours one day will rule
You went through this suicide school
You felt desperation and frost
But thunder will strike your ghost
And finally it will vanish in past
And winter metamorphoses to lust.
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