Her heart was
beating like the rhythmic
pounding of a drum, echoing
through her ears.
Her fear came out, a whisper of
terror, lost in hot breath
becoming mist.
They did not care for her
heartbeat as it
echoed throughout the room, and
filled their ears,
through the sound of a
scream. However, they
pushed harder,
and her blood spilled
onto the floor, and her
scream came rhythmic now.
It matched her
heartbeat. And when
her heartbeat stopped, so did
her scream.
Otterman ethereallly is it my turn to do a begin now
YOU ARE READING
fire
Poetryshe was the candle that would never go out, even in the breeze of adversity. - a collection of poems
