A city of lights
a dream to bathe a reality in fantasy
a blood splattered night will turn that dream

A nightmare so unforgiving
a bouquet of roses
crimson, black,white
all picked with care yet so carelessly thrown out

A body wracked with regret
turns to the moon for solace
a cold unwavering light shines down in answer
hands torn from thorns slowly reach for a blade

A design engraved in the silver hilt of the sword glistens in the night
a quick motion and blood begins to spill over the hand
over the floors and out the room it covers all
a heavy crimson and the scent of death follow quickly

A body, no a corpse, not even that lays here
the sticky red-brown blood that coats nearly everything
a gleaming sword here in the hand of the dead
an engraving of an imperial dragon on its hilt shines on in the still night