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For the wreathed brows. Honestly, it's kind of creepy when you see seven or eight of them...o.o
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Touched with roses, wreathed in chains
Ruddy, glorious, all their pain.
Shadows stretched across a wall
Wanting, desiring them all
But they love beauty, youth
They dance over the shadows smooth.
But if the thorns drenched with scent
And daisies and lilies come as they went
Attractive, touch each other's hair
Braid in and out, breath in salt air.
Before they knew what made their crown
They were slowly being pushed down.
And pull from the wall, pull, pull away.
Yet they once again turn toward day
But the light will be clenched in each hemlock bloom
Bearing them into a darkening room.
Bending their heads even as they shine.
The hemlock horror was almost mine...
