Her mother sensed the evil
When she found black stains on white sheets.
Torn fabric and charred wicker
Sent infant cries from the cradle.
A string of coos hushed the child,
But unchecked went streaks of red in brown irises.
A depraved soul not yet sixteen
Sat atop frozen roof tiles,
As her mother lamented friends
Sent to push her over the edge.
Burning lungs reflected a life turned left,
And a shooting star sprinkled ash on coarse skin.
She turned twenty-four in a black alley
With blood on her hands.
Jagged metal pierced skin
Before disappearing into cold flesh.
Her mother’s sobs rang in her memory
When the steaming vent released a cackle.
Her death fell behind metal bars,
Fluorescent lights turning pale skin gray.
Red roses turned black
On a shattered gravestone.
Tears dripped from her mother’s cheeks,
For she knew the path below the grave,
And Beelzebub welcomed his child to hell
As she clawed her skin raw.
© February 2017 | Placer County, California