No taller than a child,
And built like a scrap of cloth,
But stranger still,
Were her dead eyes and face.
It was like her soul had departed.

She shouldn’t have had such eyes.
She shouldn’t have lost what she had.
She shouldn’t, but I still asked,
Though I shouldn’t have.

“Do you want to die?”

A time passed.
I doubted she heard my words.
She shouldn’t have wanted to.
And she didn’t.
That’s good, I suppose…