Once upon an old forgotten house;
A girl studied countless mysteries;
Through very dramatic histories;
Feeling that for them she was a louse;
She had no love.
While eating the daily random foods;
She scanned herself for floating life;
In planets, swamps or a talking knife;
While perceiving her absence of goods;
She had no love.
During birthdays she seemed unhappy;
For her imortality was clear;
To others her mind was scrappy;
A bloody void that gather no cheer;
She had no love.
In normal human celebrations;
She was inhuman and blasphemous;
Because all was none but sensations;
And non-existent in her calculus;
She had no love.
She was cold as death and hot as hell;
In her eyes of reddish vile nightmare;
An evil that dire creatures can't tell;
A bloody void that don't likes to spare;
She had no love.
Once upon an old forgotten house;
A girl studied countless histories;
Through very dramatic misteries;
Feeling that for them they was a louse;
She found her love.
Erich William von Tellerstein.
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