The Passing

Gothic Prayer by Ironshod

Fallen into shades of red,

The Maiden let's her chest to bed

The tears she conceives run from her eyes,

leaving their trail of remorse, making it rise

The White Lady hangs in her eternal sleep,

gleaming forever, but to hear her weep

The Maiden slips from her body, awaiting her fate,

gossamer wings carry her, her life is too late.

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