Lacerations

Beautiful lacerations paint my face and lips.

The blackout glass cuts deep into my patchwork flesh.

With tears of blood I've cried so long,

Drowning roses of midnight that choke out the breath of innocence.

Come what may,

Because we're dead in a sense.

For each time I've fallen out of grace,

Lacerations hide my face.

A cry to the icy eyes of Armegeddon,

"Come what may! Come what may!"

We're cold in this world, and put here to stay.

And now for this deadly freak show we make way.

Lace and lacerations weave the pattern of the seam

Of lady Death's dress as she enters the scene,

Masking our eyes from al the obscene.