her thoughts seem to me like shattered glass, hastily thrown
back together, glued down to look just right, may even have
been tucked in bed at night, yet there is something thats
just not right, with her...as a studier of eyes i conclude,
are so very crazed, i was at once amazed, so beautiful the
shards of church glass, shiny little pieces of the life she
had, the innocence kept locked away for safe keeping, the
door to her cold soul bolted shut, the key's rusty and lost
to the past, the light plays metaphors upon her pretty face,
the wind picks up whisps of her hair in it's playful tease,
and the little smile says all is fine and how are you, and
then i see the knife stab her, i dont know, is that her
blood all over the ground? her bloody face looks so elegant
beneath this tree in light of the moon, her hair suddenly
looks matted down, dark with her precious blood, the lips
parted with words that, though uttered had no wind, ok..i
understand...






(written about a friend make whatever you think of it, i
promised that i would never forgive myself and i will not)