TheFuneral

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The lipstick stained her virgin lips.
Distilled with the purity of the elements.
Lying peacefully, untouched.
A sight of beauty, surpassed by no other.
Her porcelain skin, smooth like a newborn’s flesh.
But all her luminance is gone in an instant.
Why must the young ones take the first bite of life’s poison apple?

A raven scratches at the ground near the gathering.
Its loud shriek breaks the silence,
Flying over the mirage of black.
Grievance overwhelming their souls.
As the trees whistle, and the wind begins to hum,
They say their last goodbyes,
As the young girl is descended into the ground
Without any hesitance or last word.
The crowd disperses into the night,
And the rest of the world stands still.
Except for the lonesome raven, who returns to the scene,
To rest forever in its rightful place.





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