Cruel is the arc of your scowling brow,
Cello-like your voice,
Heavenly noise.
In your eyes is the circling of crow.
Looking for prey -
my clay.
It is you I am forced to adore.
Silent I am, "keeping low".
But I grow.
The clay, full of gore,
Relentlessly I
compile -
The Faerie You.
(
A/N: )
Comments 2
That was absolutely perfect. Or, I shouldn't say "perfect" because; what is? But, the rhyme scheme & line formations, along with the actual words...oh man. I sure hope you enjoy being a genius.
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