Fear
A Noir poem
Fear is the smell of blood on the wind
The look in a young girl's eye
Standing in the golden light
As she stares at her family lying dead on the floor
A melody plays in her mind

Fear is the sound of three sets of footsteps approaching
As a black haired angel runs for her life
They slide after her
But she's vanished from sight
Three shots ring out
And all three men fall
She stands and stares down at her blood covered hands
Fear is light on the blade of a knife
As the young green shoot falls with grace from the ceiling
A man falls dead as shock crosses his face
She is cold as ice and as stern as stone
The third tree will fall at the hand of one she loves
By her precious memento of tea in the moonlight
Fear is the voice of the mother of mercy
As she paces her manor away from the word
The ones who oppose her disrupted her plans
So she sends her three maidens
Knowing only two will prosper
She has known hell and high water
But she has decided already
Noir will be born at no matter the cost
To herself, to her allies or enemies