London Bride

London's night air is thick with fog.

It's cobblestone streets are void of horse carriage.

Even the grave robbers are quiet tonight.

One the flicker of gaslight flames dare to make a sound.

For the wrath of the London bride now be unbound.

From the street, the London bride peers through a window.

Broken vows caused by the husband.

The husband coveting another womam, lust in their eyes.

Moonlight illuminated the details of her madness.

Her wedding dress coated in fresh crimson.

The blade of the axe, held in hand, gleamed like a ruby jewel.

Her lifeless betrothed lay prostrated upon the wooden floor.

His lover's body, dead as well, lay next to the blood stained door.

Like the tears from her eyes, love ebbed away from the London bride.

Blood, tainted with despair, poisons every artery.

Her soul now polluted by her deed of iniquity.

She had become the latest pawn by the repulsive fates.

Ethereal fates appear as a unision.

With fate's hand upon her shoulder she feels it's celestial touch.

Underneath the window's arch, her eye's enchanted by moon's light.

A cobblestone greeted her kiss because she had died.

England bids farewell to it's own London bride.