Eyes as gray as the stormy night that shadows what pure light the earth provides its beings.
Hair as dark as the raven that sings its melancholy song as it searches for scraps of salvation.
Skin as fair as the moon that hangs by the stars that beg for peace from the sun.
Blood coating that fair skin, a purple sheen shining off that raven hair, the last few moments of the death reflecting in her eyes.
She drops the wet crimson gown and escapes, the darkness disguising her.














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