The Fatal Night

It begins oh so serenely on that star laden eve, a cover of light lacking darkness to hide this sinfully damned scene

All strolls along smoothly in a carefully choreographed cascade, till the dagger enters flesh swiftly in a manner that would make the word sabotage silently weep

To the fall a misstep carries the fated form to whence even demons do drunkly scream, a bar on your lonesome to mark as a gravestone happiness’s tomb

The damned do fit the fated bottle an awesome treat, as would a stream of blood from my fatally sliced wrist

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