Seven Screaming Violins

Black violins
scream in the wind,
no pause for breath,
there's nothing left
but silence,

and it slowly burns,
melancholy quickly turns
to violence,

bursting through the heart,
into souls to tear apart
with just a whisper.

No one hears the screams,
only keep praying that these are dreams,
falling down on broken knees,
she'd cry and beg, 'don't kill me please,'
up until Death kissed her.

And he'll walk away through roses red,
each petal dancing with the dead,
thorns singing with the frozen souls,
mourning the vivacity that he stole,
stained black with their own filthy sins,
like seven screaming violins.