Malice Alice.

Sorrow on her brow,

Malice in her eyes,

Madness on her lips,

Sweetness in her lies;

.

And yet he never saw it,

Enraptured in the pleasure of her cries.

.

Honeyed and silvery,

She sings the siren’s song of silence.

Where her lover dies

To grace her hands with the burgundy of his blood.

.

What is a moment’s pleasure to eternal sorrow?

Equal in the eyes of a lusting fool.

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