Vultures are picking at her corpse,
Beaks coated with her horrid gore.
She was found in her bed,
With blood on her lips and on her wrists,
Hands clenched about her neck.
A smile so serene lines her sweet young face,
Only one thin stream of blood mars it.
Above her bed she had tacked a note,
As neat as she was in life she was in death.
"I have taken mine own life.
I do not want your pity,
Nor would I like your sorrows.
Bury me in the forest,
The one where I always played.
I'll have no more than five stand by my grave.
Please,bury the cat beside me when he dies.
That is all I ask.
If you really want to know why I have done this dreadful thing,
Ask brother John, he will know.
Ask the Ravens in the eaves,
They have heard me cry in my dreams.
Read the lines in my wrists, they are carved deep and long,
I have worked them down for many years.
And now, Good-bye."
© Copyright 2016 Chrysta. All rights reserved.