• My sweet black iris;
    the mark of majesty,
    the herald to harlotry,
    the symbol of divinity,
    shrouded in mystery,
    bathing in my misery,
    my sweet black iris;
    dripping with my blood.
    Across the moonlit floor
    I walk, iris in hand,
    as crimson life turns black
    on the bloom's sweet petals.