Wraith

March 31, 08
Dripping blood, so dark-
You'll swear it is black
Mahogany swept back hair,
Skin too covered,
With blood,
With scars,
With hate,
To tell the innocent colour.

Wrapped around she wore-
As she privately thought it
A crown marked by jewels,
And a necklace made,
Of roses,
Of barb wire,
Of hate,
The shiny is only light reflections

And she privately thought-
In her eternity of time
That she was beautiful still,
Even if she was covered,
In maggots,
In dirt,
In hate,
So much that it ate her away.

Leaving a dead body.

They called her Whore
-They call her Wraith.