Poetry

The Question Remains Unanswered

A tiny speck floats in the dark,

Faceless, nameless,

Quite alive, but hopeless.

Seems like it is happy enough,

To be wandering in it’s own universe.

The murderer squints,

Fixes her gaze, and stings.

Vengeance and grief, and a little love,

Makes her weapon deadly enough.

One perfect hit, and it dies.

Relieved, the murderer sighs.

It wasn’t breathing, was it?

It did not even put up a fight.

The curse is eternal.

It rains every night.

The clouds loom over.

A bolt of lightning strikes without mercy,

Every time she closes her eyes,

She can hear the silent cry.

And she thinks aloud,

Was it you or I?

Who crossed over,

To the other side?

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