White Lily's: Chapter 1

Dark thoughts running in his mind,
thoughts of misery,
and death,
warm blood run's down his arm,
painting the white lily's red,
and turning the small puddle above the grave,
thicker than the water.

Heavy autumn's rain beating his slender shoulders,
silently he waits,
while blood drips from his fingers,
as dull razor pierces his fragile skin,
again and again,
and carves a hole into his bone.

Silver tears are flowing down,
each ripping a deeper hole to his already hollow heart,
heart as fragile as crystal,
now in a million shards,
and just the shell remains,
slowly,
but surely it's falling towards demise,
leaving only a soulless standing corpse behind.

The time is almost up,
he feels light-headed,
while angels are crying blood,
innocense devastated by death,
and the flow of lifeforce,
deep red in color,
pouring upon the grave of the lost one.

Quietly he falls to sleep,
in the cold autumn wind,
and rain,
next to the white lily's,
painted with blood...