She tried to hum a song,
Song, which was a threnody.
A threnody, celebrating her death,
Death, which brought peace.
Peace, which she wanted for her alive soul,
Soul, which was pierced and then churned .
Churned by their crime,
Crime, which was heinous enough to put the devil to shame.
Shame, not even an ounce left in them,
' Them ', incarnation of grotesque.
Grotesque enough to burn her,
' Her ', whose last voice echoed for justice.
Justice, a complete nuisance,
Nuisance enough of being the guardian angel of demons.
Demons, who are having a laugh,
Laugh, thrusting and twisting knives in her deceased soul.
Soul, which is happy now due to eeriness,
Eeriness, an unattended question for us.
Us, who are shaken up, wondering , 'when? '
' When 'disturbs her, for she knows, never.
2012, 2020, it's not stopping and it doesn't seem like that it'll ever stop.
Dark, disturbing, yet the truth.
