The Graveyard Of Her Soul

She wanders through memory lane

Picking out pieces of her nightmares,

Gathering her pain, her heartbreak

Noticing where her tears need repairs.

***

She collects her previous scalpings

Those collected during her insanity,

Souvenirs of those who wronged her

Silencing their uttering of profanity.

***

Her hunting grounds are getting lean

As she no longer hides from the dark,

Cross her at your own risk, your peril

She’ll brand you with her sordid mark.

***

There’s no more room for forgiveness

She’s quick to decide you’ll be next,

Beheading you with a torrid smile

Proof, no she’ll class you as suspect.

***

There were times she could be kind

These’er getting fewer and far between,

If you’ve wronged her in any way

You’ve been listed as sordidly mean.

***

Her trophies are her prized possession

As she mounts them around her soul,

Torturing them all as she sees fit

Giggling insanely with the lives she stole.

***

Her favourite haunt is the old graveyard

Where she reads the stories of the past,

Knowing she’s the last one remembered

Lingering on, as her choices are cast.

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Originally posted on Medium