The sound of snow upon the ground-
Likewise, his whisper, the softest sound.
Claret glints and onyx shrouds,
A raven's never disavowed.
Fire burns brighter behind closed eyes,
Until it's doused by painted sky.
If man chooses, then who are we
To follow so monotonously?
Butterflies gorge on poisoned clouds*,
But ravens are never disavowed.
I see more stars with each passing day,
But I still have yet to say
What one must do to achieve bitter ends.
Purity and hatred eventually blend
Into a fragrance, pure and whole,
That has a lingering scent of coal.
*Butterflies consume milkweed, a rather poisonous, though harmless-looking plant in order to make their entire selves poisonous to predators wishing to eat them.