when she was lost and alone.
The misery consuming her,
Each wave stealing a part of her soul.
She was drowning, within her own misery.
The demons of her past reaching of her battered soul.
Heart gasping, flailing wildly in desperate need of air.
For light, for a source of hope.
It was but futile war...
The hurt crawled beneath her skin,
Gnawing at each vessel,poisoning blood, all too pure intention
Her heart pumped a virus that festered Satan spawn within ones mind.
Surrendering her essence to the darkened coldness,
She closed her eyes and gently...
She exhaled...
It was done...
The virus had won, but it wasn't done...
For Dante xxxx
Mystique
