Below the cinnamon tree
Knights with charms and bells
All the sounds of little hells
Silent waits ever so patiently
A scent, the wild sweet pea
Foul, that sex and evil swells
Rise, into those darker spells
Whips, so loves the marquis
The rack is sex tightly spread
A burnt butterfly sparks a grin
Ballerina’s are grace in a spin
Sweetness bleeds cherry red
Like so, the kiss of the dead
Snaps, frozen and broken skin
Dawn, down caresses the sin
Love, where it should behead
Below the grassy green earth
Footfalls against the red snow
Comes from dungeons below
A warming of the cold hearth
Like so, belts the pain’s worth
Flails, an addiction to her woe
Slits, pierces and rents the blow
Dusk, glimmers with his mirth.
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