The very vengeance this life delivers.
It crumbles your being into a pile of ash.
Then the loss of breath, gasping.
Grief.
Shattering, distracting, mocking.
It. Kills. Me.
Her icy fingers run through my bones,
Giving me a jolt of cheer.
Escape is drawn-out yet near,
The only thing left is that fear
And the night's black.