Anyone care to post some "goth poetry" It's really fun to write!
A fake tree stands by the door like a skeleton,
Waiting to crumple into a pile of old bones.
If anyone should wish to hit it and make it fall
He would have to step over three violin cases
Sitting like coffins
Holding dead violins
Left in her attic
She just didn't care.
She didn't have time for music
Or potted plants
Madam, you have between your legs an instrument capable of giving pleasure to thousands and all you can do is scratch it.
-Sir Thomas Beecham to a lady cellist