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9/mars/t/04/942
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recondite jeweled by the hope he had taken
embracing the tears of shiva
she sits by herself tonight
and this lady should not be left alone
scorpion magic heavily drained upon
don't take her out of your sight
she dances and sways in her mystical ways
on the radio all you hear is
turn around nd say good morning to the night"
bittersweet tears drench her face
warm-wine beholds her grace
her bitten life of organza in first light
the sun lifts itself slowly
the windows gain new point
and she questions herself;
"are the choices i make ever right?"
