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Literature Text
She is the nurse of all trades
Highest born of the lowest maids
Breath of fresh molding air
Corpse with silken black hair
White uniform forever tinted gray with age
Bloodied by those who forgot her life saving gage
Tightly tied white straps to keep you from bleeding dry
Hush sweet baby, don’t whimper, don’t cry
Her monthly blood smells of death and decay
The result of a birth forever delayed
Her tongue tastes of distrust and worms
Born of her grave beneath the ferns
She is the ghost, the entity our hearts so seek
She is the beauty we forever mourn, forever weep
A tourniquet for our wounded lives
Miss tourniquet, here to separate the carnage from the knives
She was the beauty encased in an early tomb
Left to rot in the hell of Satan’s womb
No proper service for her wretched soul
Leaving a void in her spirit’s mentality, a gaping hole
And so as darkness falls her voice is heard
Singing a song so cryptic, so beautiful and absurd
Her face can be seen by the shine of the moon
She smiles, the first act of you impending doom
Her monthly blood smells of death and decay
The result of a birth forever delayed
Her tongue tastes of distrust and worms
Born of her grave beneath the ferns
She is the ghost, the entity our hearts so seek
She is the beauty we forever mourn, forever weep
A tourniquet for our wounded lives
Miss tourniquet, here to separate the carnage from the knives
Highest born of the lowest maids
Breath of fresh molding air
Corpse with silken black hair
White uniform forever tinted gray with age
Bloodied by those who forgot her life saving gage
Tightly tied white straps to keep you from bleeding dry
Hush sweet baby, don’t whimper, don’t cry
Her monthly blood smells of death and decay
The result of a birth forever delayed
Her tongue tastes of distrust and worms
Born of her grave beneath the ferns
She is the ghost, the entity our hearts so seek
She is the beauty we forever mourn, forever weep
A tourniquet for our wounded lives
Miss tourniquet, here to separate the carnage from the knives
She was the beauty encased in an early tomb
Left to rot in the hell of Satan’s womb
No proper service for her wretched soul
Leaving a void in her spirit’s mentality, a gaping hole
And so as darkness falls her voice is heard
Singing a song so cryptic, so beautiful and absurd
Her face can be seen by the shine of the moon
She smiles, the first act of you impending doom
Her monthly blood smells of death and decay
The result of a birth forever delayed
Her tongue tastes of distrust and worms
Born of her grave beneath the ferns
She is the ghost, the entity our hearts so seek
She is the beauty we forever mourn, forever weep
A tourniquet for our wounded lives
Miss tourniquet, here to separate the carnage from the knives
Finally, some decent poetry! I had such a poetry block, but I'm baaaaack! 
I hope this puts some very disturbing and cryptic images into your head.
I hope this puts some very disturbing and cryptic images into your head.
© 2006 - 2024 X-Tourniquet-X
Comments15
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."...And so as darkness falls her voice is heard
Singing a song so cryptic, so beautiful and absurd
Her face can be seen by the shine of the moon
She smiles, the first act of you impending doom..."
This is my favourite verse, its so, descriptive and imaginative!!
Singing a song so cryptic, so beautiful and absurd
Her face can be seen by the shine of the moon
She smiles, the first act of you impending doom..."
This is my favourite verse, its so, descriptive and imaginative!!