Melody of Death

Summary: It is not a craving. It's just...

That clink of glass,

Is the first thing,

He familiarized himself with,

When he met her.

The following ping,

Of the crystals,

On her anklet,

Echo around her,

Constantly.

In a way,

The sounds are soothing,

To him,

But not her victims.

They scream,

And she moves,

Like a whirlwind,

Rushing toward them,

A cacophony,

That drowns the fools',

Last dying breath.

Her voice,

Is layered,

Sophisticated,

Yet deadly,

Promising a swift end,

If you sing back,

The wrong words.

He waits for it,

That moment,

When they truly,

Have snipped,

The last thread,

Of her patience.

Because,

What comes after,

Is a melody,

Of death.