1 definition by Ha Sheesh
Where to start?
Okay. Beautiful, pale white skin, and red hair.
Eyes sometimes green and sometimes blue.
Beauty is the most perfect person you'll ever meet.
When Beauty smiles, like crystal pearls encircling the tomb of life, life perpetuates.
When Beauty cries, like the acid gnawing at our bones as they respire desire into the air, there is rain.
Her voice is a hymn that transcends our heavenly realm, diving into the halos most divine.
Her hair is a veil that shields us from our most deadliest sins, weaved around every soul - preserving its entity blue and pure.
Her rhythmic dance shakes us, breaks us, makes our bones vibrate.
Her love is and elixir, making the oceans rock onto the unsuspecting shore, washing away the wastes of our dreadful dreams.
Every word she utters is one of the lost prophecy, of the forgotten parchment with maroon red ink.
We bow for her, queen of the crimson see.
Not a master, never a god.. Just an aspiration.
Okay. Beautiful, pale white skin, and red hair.
Eyes sometimes green and sometimes blue.
Beauty is the most perfect person you'll ever meet.
When Beauty smiles, like crystal pearls encircling the tomb of life, life perpetuates.
When Beauty cries, like the acid gnawing at our bones as they respire desire into the air, there is rain.
Her voice is a hymn that transcends our heavenly realm, diving into the halos most divine.
Her hair is a veil that shields us from our most deadliest sins, weaved around every soul - preserving its entity blue and pure.
Her rhythmic dance shakes us, breaks us, makes our bones vibrate.
Her love is and elixir, making the oceans rock onto the unsuspecting shore, washing away the wastes of our dreadful dreams.
Every word she utters is one of the lost prophecy, of the forgotten parchment with maroon red ink.
We bow for her, queen of the crimson see.
Not a master, never a god.. Just an aspiration.
by Ha Sheesh December 13, 2010