Wait for the next victim to come by...

left alone,

under the grasp of evil.

left unguarded

tarnished at its own will.

broken beyond repair 

shattered 

the splinters of glass,

tearing apart my delicate skin

like a sheathe of paper.

I scream amid the darkness

which engulfs the cries in its womb.

I lie on a bed of thorns

invisible tears trailing

past my spine and down my cheek.

I don't brush them away 

let them slither over my tarnished face.

the mask of death

shivering throughout my body.

my limp figure

lying on a bed of thorns.

clutching on to the mask of evil

that I'd worn.

I'm not afraid anymore

not afraid of my sins,

of my past, of my cruel instincts

then why do my cheeks appear wet?

why does my heart throb with eternal pain?

I'm the mistress of evil

don't you dare mess with my crown !

don't you flicker your pretty fingers

'cause cold metal can cut apart your soul.

can destroy your mask,

as efficiently

as it destroyed mine.

you will try to get past,

but you can't

it'll just hold on.

you'll clutch onto the cold metal

glittering under the sun.

trample over my lifeless form

to the bed of thorns.

and then you'll feel the pain engulf every nerve,

every sinew and shatter them

like the splinters of glass

which would cut apart your soul

through your heart,

but you'll not let go

you will just wait

for the next one to come by

be the victim to your cruelty

until it passes by...