Beyond smiling lips
carrying the sorrows of the past,
behind the eyes' sparkle
concealing the darkness of horrors still to last
stares a stranger, young and kind.
Yet she shows not her face
for the stroke of death's caress
extinguishes the aroma of her heart.
Not for any sin, but tenderness
so pure. For survival's sake, she died.
Now her corpse haunts the corners of thought.
Her laughter echoes throughout the years
like the singing bird clipped of wings.
Steel nerves creak with the rust formed by her tears
and audibly a cry from her coffin screams.
Perhaps her ghost will someday rest
when justice to her grave is done,
her tombstone placed to mark her existence
and known in my reflection...
Yes, I killed her. I murdered her in cold blood still flowing.
Now she is vengeful, her dead heart still pounding.