Wooden impressions and rotten dreams


The sent of moss upon her hair

And crowned by flies and bees,

The noble maid so bright and fair

Sits on her throne of fern and trees.

Her royal household made of squirrels, birds and deer

surround their silent dame in great delight.

Alas she notices no tease, no cheer,

Just like a statue, cold and marble white .

The scent of death upon her chest

She stares up in the sky-

A blood stained sceptre in her breast.

Decay comes slowly kissing her goodbye.


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