My funeral gown rustles as I dance.
The white so virgin it blinds my eyes.
Yet, with this new vision, I do behold-
Narrating bloodstains, the curse of death’s prize.
Each moment I sculpt the air with my arms-
I discern one more soul sing muted cries.
The hum of despair, a humorous grief-
Violin plays as my sonata dies.
|