Branwell

Branwell

Hiciste mal

You caused them sorrow

Not only did you die;

You took her

down to the grave as well

But how could you've known

And what could you've done

To save yourself?

Branwell

Of weakness legendary

Now your young bodies lay

in the cemetery

The seeds of the roses

Eaten by the pigeons

The thought of her freedom

Locked into her dungeon

To never roam the hills again

Rootless flowers

with clean cut stems

Are now fading away

Into the soil, your blanket

And the heathers

That gave her life meaning

Are now sucking life off hers

Yet her death makes sure she never dies

No coward soul rests in this place

Branwell you have been forgiven

Branwell can you forgive yourself

Condemned to be remembered

By the one who failed

Condemned to wander through shameful chapters

And face the little bodies

Of the ones who loved you best