Her Dress As A Poem, Her Death As The Night

decaying, I'm a rotten flower
who is sadly
walking the aisle
with my head held down

withering, I'm a forlorn queen
who has been furiously
twisting my fate
with the inferno's gate

I'm the queen of the valley of death
my dress is made of fire
my heart is icy cold
like the glimpse of sapphire

but it is the end of my time
wear my dress as your vicious night
and may my death be your fright