“Whenever the angel of death came for one of my brothers in arms, we would lay a wreath of black roses at his feet. No one ever said anything, or even looked at me, as far as I saw, but I knew what they were thinking.” –The Black Rose of Gondor
flow my tears, fall from your springs :: exiled forever let me mourn :: where night's black bird, her sad infamy sings :: there let me live, forlorn. Mourning Angel with Black Wings.