This poem was actually printed in a book of poetry printed in London.
SOUL DEATH
She lays upon
the coffin cold
heart still beating
for her true love
long lost among
the empty moments
of Earth's illusion.
Oh, how she longed to feel his touch.
She lays upon
the coffin cold
heart still beating
for her true love
blood as cold
as a stormy winter's night
rules her veins
as her essence
is mummified
within
her deadened soul.
Oh, how she longed to feel his touch.
SOUL DEATH
She lays upon
the coffin cold
heart still beating
for her true love
long lost among
the empty moments
of Earth's illusion.
Oh, how she longed to feel his touch.
She lays upon
the coffin cold
heart still beating
for her true love
blood as cold
as a stormy winter's night
rules her veins
as her essence
is mummified
within
her deadened soul.
Oh, how she longed to feel his touch.
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