Buried in woes,

Don’t dream, don’t dream.

Every time her eyes will bleed,

For tears cannot ever express,

The harsh thorns of this beautiful rose.

She sold her soul for the beauty in tomorrow,

To the promises made on the moon,

To the signature of lies written in the stars,

Her heart is a storm breaking every bone in her body,

All for his gaze colder than the frost and the snow.

It is the fault of her hands that reached for the sea,

She can’t catch water with wishes.

Not even god could grasp the ocean from his eyes.

Without hope to save the sinking entity of her being,

In these raging waters she knows she can never be free.

Forever bound to the waves that kill her nearly,

To love, to love.

She has drowned in this sorrow seven times over,

Yet she has never been so blessed to die and let go of her love,

All for a dream that crimson petals could ever hold her dearly.