In velvet shrouds, the sickness sleeps, A raven coiled in shadowed deeps. Its whisper, cold as crypt-born breath, Waltzes with the scent of death.

Veins like thorns beneath pale skin,Each pulse a toll from deep within. The mirror cracks with every moan, A soul decayed, yet not alone.

Beneath black lace and candle flame, Pain speaks soft with no true name. It wears a crown of ashen dread, And cradles dreams the living fled.

So let me rot where roses died,
With hollow eyes still open wide.
For in this ache, I feel me true
A ghost that bleeds, but still pulls through.

#poem #goth #gothic #subculture #dark

#night #moon #dark

Polished black on ashen ground,
Each step a curse, without a sound.
No sun, no cross, no final breath
Just walking bones, in love with death.

#black #blackwhite #gothic #blackwhitephotography #symbolic

Cats gang #cats