In the pale moonlight glow
She pauses with silver in her hand.
Oh such intricate silver,
Carefully sharpened with but one purpose in mind...
Faster than a thought
She strikes.
Slowly tears of blood
Drip
Down
Through her raven hair.
Onto the stones of old.
And the memories
Embed themselves
Among the fragments of marble.
Slowly she lifts her head
From the mesmerizing chorus
Of the crimson flow.
Stumbling out into the darkness
She sees the world,
A world so cold
That it will not even bother
To stem
Her salty, scarlet tears.