Klarissa
down she falls,
with a scream so loud
it wakes the demons.
skin shredded by teeth
sharper than daggers,
sharper than the words
that stain her chest red.
it's all a mess of razor blades,
bitter tears of silence pooled on flawless white tile.
angels should never be silent
when one of their own is in vain.
don't they hear the clock tick with every breath?
beauty with such innocence
represents such pain.
a rose is worth a thousand words,
placed upon her grave.
a final breath sweet as honey.
a final taste of a world full of hate.
a world where an angel
could make a mess of razor blades,
watch tears fall on white tiles.
listen to a clock
that no one else can hear,
counting down the seconds
until her time ran out
when no one else cared enough
to even listen with her.