Do you see a smile behind those blue eyes?
I don't and I'm her creator.
She looks away, that dreaming look appears.
Her heart wants, needs, lusts for her own blood.
Is it a sin to fight for the final end?
Scars line her arms, traces of the blade.
Bruises along her torso, she claims they are hers.
Ribs sticking out, of a hunger she knows too well.
Hollow cheeks and a long face, full of sorrow.
Lank hair hangs on her shoulder, bony hands brush it.
A body women would die for, ugly she says.
A mere skeleton of the creature I made.
How could it have gone so out of control?
This is based on a lot of things in my life, so judge freely. You can find this character in "Dear Lucy", when I get around to introducing her.
