For Mother

Red folds within the satin lace
cover a wall, a secret place.
Golden robes tie in a brace,
like hands of a forbidden grace,
Kept the curtains embrace
so the sounds wouldn't escape.

The curtains swayed within her room
as the wind blew in the gloom
the maghony oak of her bed
lay still for her head.
Eeriely, the moon did shine
the mist glew past one,
crept in the looking glass
for her beauty didn't shine any less.
For as melochany as the sky
the girl's hair darker than it in anyway.

She is fair, fairer than the sirens
her eyes deeper than the oceans.
With lips deadlier than a rose's kiss
the lady's dear wish more than bliss.
But before he could grant,
she promised him her greatest gift.
With the cold, he drew his last breath
slice of silver through his throat.
The greastest gift she could give
her own thoughts she could not live
without the devotion once recieved
her mother's wish, she would not have undone.

Behind the red folds of the satin curtain,
and through a door of the secret place,
A dark room, of circular design
hides away the many deaths
of unfortunate souls.
Decay with the rot of flesh
five or more of mans death
lay ontop the bleach white commrade.
A skull or two, ribs of more, and fingers lie beneath.
As her mother's work before her own.
A promise she did keep,
her mother would be proud.