The first of July.
The satin is scarlet.
The spike heels are high.
You look like a harlot.
Tomorrow"s the day
Of fatal misprision.
Oh God, come what may:
I took my decision. 
My fiendish, my grim,
My vicious, disdainful -
I"ll do it for him.
My love will be painful,
A sweet kind of dread... 
Veil"s white like a lotus...
Until I"m not dead...
Nobody will notice!...
My thoughts are in thrall,
Like rabbits in hutches.
I can"t walk at all,
Just stand with the crutches -
And it feels so hurt,
It"s pricking and burning...
My vision gets blurred...
Last moment"s disturbing,
But... soon peace will come.
I know what he"s craving -
And so I"ll succumb,
This time I"ll be craven.
He"ll see the unseen,
Amazing, pure blooded,
All bound to sin...
My feet feel like studded...
One knife and two hits -
Just squeeze it with fingers...
Be fast with your feats -
It kills when it lingers...
One. Two. Three. Do it now!