The night is calm like her dull dying eyes
Its immortal beauty feeds off her nightmares
And keeps secrets shrouded in a moonlit disguise
A trade one can say is fair
However, on this night
Much like that of any others
The blood in her veins carry fright
And her skin nurses transparent creeper crawlers
Her throat is drenched with sour saliva
Bits of her skin rot like overdue cries
There is a pungent odor of cafeteria guavas
Then a white sheet is pulled up over her dull dead eyes
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