THE BRIDE

THE BRIDE

She’s beautiful, and dressed in white,

I say, she was born to be a bride,

Ever since she was young, she wanted to love, be loved,

But her eyes, being held in someone else’s arms, tell me it’s not true love.

Because when she smiles, we all turn to look at her, wide-eyed,

She always wanted to be a bride, but all dreams die,

We can feel it, and she can too,

The Sun smiling down on her where she stands, but she’s got the blues.

The flowers turn and kiss her fingertips when she holds the bouquet in her silken hands,

It’s like you wanted in the movie, Luna, so grand,

Red roses, her ivory skin, pale emerald eyes, one of a kind,

Should I have expected that, was she calling out to me in her mind?

Roses flying in the air, I watched them as they soared like a dove,

She’s a bride, she’s a dove, and those roses were no more above,

I only saw her crystal smile, woman in white, when her thorns pierced my skin,

Ruby-red drops budded, I didn’t care, I looked up to see Snow White whose face was sunken in sin,

Her smile was robbed from her doll face,

If this is love, I don’t want his embrace.

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