by Rosca Marx
Black-hearted eternity is kept alive through thorough kisses of dark, dark deeds and the dead things that let them live.
Birth in death is a revolution that should not stand up. The potential of the lips is always willing to kill for blood and love. But what did I care?
For in life I was just a girl, just any girl, one of many.
When in death, I was made one and made only.