The wind has been howling for days and days, searing the clouds and her mind,
It tells a tell, tale that will slice her lungs worse than his words-
Her lips bleed in the frosty wind, slow, her feet trudging, incapable, her fractured legs leaving crimson traces burning in agony
Huffing, escaping, running, crying out, hear her desperate plea, but this actions have silenced her
Death lurking behind the pine trees, acres of snow covering up the lies.

He said, he doesn’t love her anymore, already had every inch of her in his mouth,
His **** in her mouth, again and again, feral eyes watching it unfold a plan successful, forcefully, trapped, chained her to the bedposts, scarred on the outside and charred from inside
Tearing petals off, from the roses he gave her, one bright afternoon, he loves me, he loves me not
He said he did, naive girl, moved to Siberia for him, where did loving him lead her?
She laughs, like an asylum patient, a tortured madness climbing the veins of her soul
Poor little lamb, he is carnivore, tearing off her skin, divulging into her body.
                                            Look at her destroyed, frayed
                                             Look at the ghost of a girl
Who walks through realms of life, the wind is still, mourning in the loss.

Her bruised body all shades of blue and red, lifeless.  He ate out of her too much, he ****** her life out.
At frail attempt at an escape, bittersweet atleast, darkness claimed her on the hands of freezing terrains, not him.
Look at the countless wolves howling, consuming the remnants in a mad glee.