Willing To Pay Anything For Those Notes Poem by Axley Jade Blaze

So, To Everyone Vested Even Now,
And
To You Love, Ever-so Right;

I'm penning this in a rush as I burn—
as I swirl and contort, twist, and I do turn!

I write this in a hurry!
Try to explain the flames, this fury;
Try to explain; you shouldn't worry;
Try to explain; this is something purely;

Embedded in me from the day I first took a breath
Embossed in me from living with a jolt right into death
Nobody is to blame unless everybody is,
Nobody could have EVER prevented this.
I feel as though I was born for this tragedy.
I feel as though I dressed myself carefully.
Wearing my torment, like a perfumed, silky night-gown.
I douse myself in sorrow, consumed by it, until I drown.
The fury is the necklace,
my depression is the winter sweater.
And my guilt? It is the crown.
My anger is the scarf for this winter weather.
My death-lust is a pair of stilettos.
Sharp and blatant, so seductive!
My make-up, more like war-paint;
ready for this dance, despite it being so destructive.
Shot through the soul, demolition;
as in an opera-pitch I'm singing this self-fulfilling premonition.

I dance with death, secrets I whisper, I hiss, and I tell.
In the ear of the True God: I flirt with Death and Darkness.
Yes, I flirt with Hell.

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