Husbands Blood.

She's kneeling alone,

Her hands in a pail,

Seen wringing the blood

From the husbands soaking shirt and bowtie.

Meanwhile her spouses body is

Lying under the stairs

Lying still

Lying on the perishing stone floor.

Shoulders pulsating,

Her tears pour extravagantly,

Mingling with the crimson fluid

Painting her face.

There is no going back now.

What is done is done.

Pained, lost voices ring out through her head

Drowning her mind in reflections of death.

She's kneeling alone,

Her hands in a pail,

Seen wringing the blood

From the husbands soaking shirt and bowtie.

Meanwhile her spouses body is

Lying under the stairs

Lying still

Lying on the perishing stone floor.

Shoulders pulsating,

Her tears pour extravagantly,

Mingling with the crimson fluid

Painting her face.

There is no going back now.

What is done is done.

Pained, lost voices ring out through her head

Drowning her mind in reflections of death.

"...We don't need you, need this,

We dont need you..."

Standing up,

She scours her filthy face with a determined hand,

With the other she forcest the bloody container to its side,

Thick scarlet liquor spilling aross the tiles.

She stumbles about, then clatters...

Through her drawing room door.

Reaching into a cupboard

Her boney, palid hands

Connect with the marbley smooth surface of the pistol.

The pistol.

What is left to live for?

It was never her choice.

The End

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