i'm a deranged twinkle lurking in the dark,
a blood haired lunatic that abolishes doll faces,
an ancient inky heart,
splattered on worn out chalk pages,
home is a bone made ark,
spanning across a hundred dimensions and places,
between thousands of shadows, it was one bright spark,
nowaday it's a hollow cavern with speckly blood traces,
my name is as alluring as a work of prose,
it was used in many aesthetic phrases,
my hair's as red as a blood-soaked, glittering rose,
earned me a couple of unfeigned praises,
i stretch across the three moon phases,
i lived through eras and millenniums of gold ages,
between devils, angels and untold fairytale pages,
i've had numberless hideous faces,
i'm the voice of the dead,
the framer of death and deadly creations,
i'm a faded colorless sketch, a scream of horror that lives inside your head.
