breaths - slow, deep, lone, and fading
The only sigh that kept her high -
thoughts of a growth: wood root - would wind
Eyes deep and darkened by agonizing ties
kept only by the grave demise
Someone withered and blown
with hair perfect just for a throne
Sincerity, truth, and sanity the same
endured through the blackest of black domains
Never to look and never to reign
lifted only for once for leaven so plain
Lift me up, oh Son of God.
Bear this pain I've known for love.