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Friday, September 24, 2010

Murder

Don't think of the knife that waits
Shining, seductive
In broken morning light
The weapons that are as beautiful as morning dew
Beautiful as tranquility, rebirth, love & laughter
Yet the very opposite of those things I've forsaken
I hate so hard
As much as others love
Call me forgotten of Aphrodite
She rose from sea foam and turquoise water
I rose from the blackened rivers of purgatory
To seek a new hell
Queen of beauty and love
Sunshine and sexuality
You forget about me
Me lonely one, with knife in hand
This murder will be my own.

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