Graveyard Garden Poem by Satan's Sibling

Blackest night and purest moon,
Have never seemed to arrive too soon.
Truest love and Heartfelt night,
I stand under the cold moonlight.

Silver shadows at my back,
in my arms, a bloody sack.
Ahead of me an empty grave,
For the girl that I was too late to save.

Crimson red, it stains my shirt,
As I throw her upon the dirt.
Pour the ground upon the love,
A hear the wings of a Black Dove.

I stand above and weep at night,
Waiting for my lover's flight.
The Reaper's hearse, it holds my love,
The coffin fits her like a glove.

A sacrosanct taste on the coldest wind,
As the night-time owls cease to sing.
The morning glow has come at last,
It seems the night has gone so fast.

I put the shovel on the grave,
A tribute to the girl I could not save.
I try to sleep at every night,
But my dreams are cursed with the Reaper's flight.

I lay in bed, with my shirt as ash,
I check to see my lovely stash.
I try to rest but my mind foes back,
To the bloody red shirt and that bloody red sack.