The Murder

She stands at the mirror unable to see,
The cloth darkens her eyes.
And her lips drip with red and her tongue like a snake’s,
With her wrists bound as one they leave blood on her spine,
and she laughs, without eyes, at what she would be.

She looks out from the glass at her own writhing corpse,
Her jaw locked with bars she can only observe,
She torches her eyes and flames tear through her soul,
And she screams, but cannot, and she bleeds and she bleeds.
Her corpse keeps on writhing, unable to see.