No beauty could compare,
To that of my fair maiden - oh,
Miss Emily St Claire.
I watched her from the garden wall,
her innocence and grace,
She knew not that I was looking,
Upon her divine face.
Too scared to ever let it show,
These blatant acts of love,
I sent anonymous poems,
And hoped it was enough.
And then one day he came along,
Standing so broad and tall,
He took the credit for my work,
Her love, she gave him all.
The thunder-clouds engulfed my sky,
And my love turned to hate,
The tempting knife, it beckoned me,
And death, they would await.
T'was in the winter midnight,
The rain felt cold and hard,
In my right hand; the vengeful blade,
To avenge my dark heart.
I had crept round the window sill;
Two silhouettes on view,
Too late to chose from right and wrong,
I knew just what to do.
Hiding within the dark shadows;
I gazed upon my prey,
And took the knife and pushed in deep,
But I was hurt that day.
Too many hearts I had broken,
Just two lives I ended,
Yet still I am just so alone,
This heart still not mended.
And here today I think of her;
She never leaves my mind,
While I sit in this cell,
Emily keeps me occupied.
The fragments of the moonlight shone;
No beauty could compare,
To that of my fair angel, oh,
Miss Emily St Claire.
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