Swan of pale
Of porcelain white
Her halo, a bloody sun
Framing a Botticelli face
Of petrichor weaves black noise
Where her frame disfigures
Pale of the swan, painted, dying
Wilting in red ribbons
Lashing black sails, a tattered mane
Her mouth, a death's head smile
Tongueless choirs and baited breath
Ever watching... The angels beheaded
Bleeding this heart, come clarity
Resonance
Of petrichor weaves black noise
https://youtube.com/watch?v=WMRKBz89uRQ [Embed]