The white of my eyes has been painted red.
Horror of a tragedy and moments of dread.
Remembering the time, grief gripping my head.
Keeping hope alive; but no, she is dead. Day dreamers despair, a poet of pain.
...
Chose not to be Queen of England,
But instead to be Queen of Hearts.
Dealt a royal flush of Destiny,
But folded before she could start. She laid down her hand
...
Knight Of Noble Sorrows
The white of my eyes has been painted red.
Horror of a tragedy and moments of dread.
Remembering the time, grief gripping my head.
Keeping hope alive; but no, she is dead. Day dreamers despair, a poet of pain.
Her beauty so fair with poise so tame.
What will become of tomorrow?
As I sit, my soul floods; drowning in sorrow. Could we be at the end of all time?
Or is this merely a grief-stricken rhyme?
Maybe both?