Tears in a jar

Their tears I gather in a jar.
Children of pain with knives in their hearts.
They haunt my dreams and cry and cry.
They love me.
They cry for me.
They are the ones dying... Yet for me they are crying.
I pull the knives out and see the bleeding hearts.
A child's heart is so small, fits in your palm... And beats.
And it beats...

From you, beauty of my dreams, I give to you this gift of horror.
You light the flames of my desires.
The beauty of evil I dream is from you and to you it returns.
I beg of you to accept these children's tears,
for they have fallen on loving cheeks.
On my knees I gathered them, on my knees I kissed them,
on my knees I beg of you... please take them.
Children born of pain. Small hearts, they carry in their hands.
They are alive, for you can hear their crying.
They are dead, the beating hearts are lying.
My beautiful children of pain,
dressed in white, covered in light,
hearts in hands and crying.