LoNg have I waited for the whips on my back
Cold kIsses on my lips
Under the Flower amaranth
In a Spiked MaIden I wait
For your frozen, coLd hands I wait
To pull me out and Hold me like your lost king of old
A vile pair we would makE
As you use my skin as your Makeshift canvas
And string me to the bloodied Amaranth

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artists note:
This poem is written to Nifilhema with her name in an acrostic form.
The capitalizations in the middle of words are there to make it eisier for the
reader to understand the poem