She's standing at the open window,
a single red rose clasped in her white hands
The wind whips her dress about her ankles,
pushing her away from the horrors outside
She leans into it, steps onto the cold stone sill
chilling her to the bone, but not so much as
what she sees as she looks out
does drive an icicle of fear into her heart
though she is more familiar with it
than any home comfort or luxury
A swirling chaos, black clouds below
shielding her view of the hell beneath
Black clouds above, looming threateningly
A bolt of light flashes from the dark mass of the sky,
illuminating her weary expression
tired of the overwhelming reality
The lightning strikes,
someone screams
their cries echo in her mind
Twisting her heart
Wrenching her soul
Because she shares their pain
and neither of them can be saved.
The wind is more violent now
It howls, screaming at her as so many voices
The ones that have reduced her to this sorrowed state.
From her hands the red rose slips,
falling, carried and torn by the vengeful wind
Until it disappears into the darkness
She steps forward, teetering on the edge
Ready to join the fallen souls
Too late to save her now
