The wraith is a figment

A figure of the mind

Her feet carry her far

Her silence sits and grinds

 

No smell clings to her figure

No malice to her heart

As deadly as kind

Not a murder but spy

 

Blood a shadow on her fingers

Demons invade her mind

She craves freedom from her masters

Yet she yearns for them in kind

 

A debt she must repay

A heart she must deny

Her purpose is still fresh

A pain she can not defy

 

The furrow in the sand is blurry

Where does she draw the line

Where does she cross the border

When does she leave

When does she lie

 

(Inspired by the book "Six of Crows"

by Leigh Bardugo)