Our tragic death

this is not a class poem, just one i made on my own time.

The cuts and scars

stream her leanty arms.

She straggled into a corner

and in sudden silence

her heart strained the last beat,

for someone was behind her.

Someone with a razor, sharp as fire.

He stabbed her with no feeling,

but her expression was loving,

as the last drips of blood ran

d

  o

    w

      n her chest.

Is she dead?

No, but in a second.

Her paernts ran in,

but to late.

She still lives,

as our tragic death.

 

Author's Note

kinda creepy, but i got inspired by somthing on tv.