The blood red veins run through your fur

Vicious violet scorn

You care, too little

The Death of the Maiden

It scars and tore through

The eyes have remained killed, that very day

The tuft of snow, it welcomes others

You don't want to give your hand to others

To love and soothe

But you do

You do

Despite rotting from the inside of your veins

You are loved

The skin gets too ripe with concern

You know

But you aren't truly those colors you shed

The killed eyes are lulled

The violet liquid is held in

The maiden wants you back in heaven

You go

You cannot stay any longer