she was strife with boredom
once again, veering towards martyrdom
“is it all it’s meant to be?” alarmed she said
fading into black, praying to the dead.

the past visited her dreams
she remembers everything, even the screams
his eyes craving pure vengeance
her pleadings sounding as sadness’ avalanche.

he was not a terrible man
a year of courtship turned him to a dutiful husband
the babies came and so did his rage
which lead to a crime for all the ages.

she was strife with boredom
she once again veered to martyrdom
blood, so much of it, she cleans it out
as angry tears flood under her morose brow.