A beam of light
In womanly form
How warm and bright was she?
Until the boy
Who loved her pain
Took all that made her happy.

He cut her deep
With serrated edge
Just to watch her bleed.
And would not halt
Though to the sun
Most surely she could lead.
His life in darkness
She could attest,
Was not what it could be.
If he had let
The light pour in,
His eyes could finally see.