An Oxymoron in This Midnight Hour
An Oxymoron in This Midnight Hour
Red tear-stains in the summer snow (follow)
White, soft, so alluring to touch they lay,
Down, cold, where innocence decays.
So wronged, petrified, still (hollow)
Heavenly blue lips frozen, dying to say, to cry out, to pray,
Forever leaves us with so very few days.
Frail wrists, so pure and white (desperate)
Shackled, manacled, held in restraints of imaginary pain.
Wrought in iron, steel, glazed in ivory silent bones loudly rest,
Where silence weeps still, somewhere hallow (desolate).
Glassy eyes glazed with doubtful trust, ignorant to worshiping disdain
Of the crude Earth beneath her, as harmless as a serpentine’s nest.
Exposed in the whereabouts of the deadliest Sin, kohl hair breathes in disarray (heavy like lead);
Feeble, poor intakes of moist, stale air carve the image of quivering lips in solemn silence,
Like double edged blades (lowering, sharpened tongues) aesthetic metal rattles (she is dead).
In harmonic discord all lowly, hallow things cry out in sainted, self-righteous defiance
And where sins lay bare, our fair lady Truth rests petrified and silenced forever, instead.
Red tear-stains in the summer snow (follow)
White, soft, so alluring to touch they lay,
Down, cold, where innocence decays.
So wronged, petrified, still (hollow)
Heavenly blue lips frozen, dying to say, to cry out, to pray,
Forever leaves us with so very few days.
Frail wrists, so pure and white (desperate)
Shackled, manacled, held in restraints of imaginary pain.
Wrought in iron, steel, glazed in ivory silent bones loudly rest,
Where silence weeps still, somewhere hallow (desolate).
Glassy eyes glazed with doubtful trust, ignorant to worshiping disdain
Of the crude Earth beneath her, as harmless as a serpentine’s nest.
Exposed in the whereabouts of the deadliest Sin, kohl hair breathes in disarray (heavy like lead);
Feeble, poor intakes of moist, stale air carve the image of quivering lips in solemn silence,
Like double edged blades (lowering, sharpened tongues) aesthetic metal rattles (she is dead).
In harmonic discord all lowly, hallow things cry out in sainted, self-righteous defiance
And where sins lay bare, our fair lady Truth rests petrified and silenced forever, instead.