The Poetry Book

Her Deathly Smile

The rain drizzled on a cold winter morn
And the sun reclused in the day
The wind whistled through the corn
Though the singer was slain where she lay
And she was beautiful
Yes, she was beautiful

Her blood stained the colorless sheets
Her white teeth showing in a malicious grin
The knife that her heart had to meet
Had shaped the hands where it had been
When they had slit her heart
Yes, they had slit her heart

The pale beauty hated those hands so
For they had been her mothers death too
And those hands had killed others, so she did know
Those hands were cold, lifeless and blue
Those hands loved blood
How they loved that pretty blood

The blood spilled from her body
Onto the lovely carpet on the floor
The mess only became more sloppy
When those hands beat her for that much more
They hated such a mess
God, it was a mess

But her grin stretched wider the more she was beat
She had longed for death a long while
She couldn't make it come no matter what she could eat
So she smiled, watching the blood spill on the kitchen tile

Her last words were, "I love you too, Dad."
Her last sight was of his hateful eyes
She couldn't feel the pain, not a tad
As she left behind all her ties
And she died that day
Yes, she died that day