Blood drips onto the page as I write, 

Over and over I repeat the same lines.

"She's coming, I know She's coming."

These words I write and nothing more.

 

Why? Why am I so obsessed with this creature of the night?

Why does she sing to me the way a Siren sings to a lad's heart?

Why does her image rewind and restart?

Who is she? Why does she want me?

 

The angel must've heard my cry,

"An angel, -an angel she is indeed!-

Would never, ever love me."

Then with a giggle, and a dark glint in her eyes.

She wrapped her arms around me...

She placed my hands on her thighs.

 

Unsteadily my breath is,

As I am awestruck by her beauty,

As her angelic form, stuns me.

My Obsession Is A Tragedy...

 

My hand hurts as I write,

But I know I cannot stop,

My eyes glances towards the clock,

Still my hand does not stop.

 

Blood stains this white canvas,

Stains this blank satin...

"She's coming, she's coming!"

No she isn't! Stop forcing me to write lies!

 

My angel is dead,

On a spike,

Is where her angelic head is kept.

I killed her, my incoherent words killed her!

 

Insanity broke my barrier,

Leaving me in a land of confusion,

Leaving me in a horrid illusion,

Forever I am trapped, within my own delusions...