wyndaeru

Smooth white forms Gracefully molded with The best of hands Twisted into uncanny shapes Dipping in and out each other Like masses of nerves They wear these bones on their bodies Otherworldly symbols of power Ivory jaws, teeth, crests, skulls Almost like Lucifer's children And yet they used to be Just like you "What are they?" You may cry They are everything And nothing at the same time The pale one Is void of expression The essence of nobodies Strumming a cello Made of the blood tree's flesh A silver-haired youth Makes his violin's wants known Dancing among The plummeting rose petals The one who laughs With the deligh