A juvenile dream buried in the dirt-covered cemetary,
They heard the squelch of the bones rising from the grimy gravestones.
Uncovering a secret so inconceivable,
She trudged down the debauched streets in the dingiest of nights.
She wanted to bawl, cry, pelt down on those devious, wandering eyes,
Twitching her lips sewn shut,
Quivering at the sight of the rare, disapproving mouths,
Twisted into a ghastly grimace.
She sensed her fear crawling up her spine,
Wrapping its forbidding fingers around her neck.
She feared the spectre of their depraved gaze,
She feared fading into a vortex of inescapable obscurity.
She had dragged on for as long as she could,
Her feet finally crumbling into the ground.
A thousand eyes affixed on the faceless she-devil,
Writhing helplessly in suppressed ire.
She reached far deep inside her chest,
And inhumanly ripped out her beating heart.
They wondered who she was, whose blood drenched the streets,
Whose secrets, she died to keep entombed.