Poetry

She sits there. Eyes blank, lifeless. Blood pours from her eyes, her mouth, and the wound in her chest. They tried to stake her, to kill her. She had done nothing wrong, but just living was a crime her race. Her race lived off blood, other's blood, evil assumed they did of her. She never did killed anyone. Now she sits, awaiting her death. The pain dulls as the minutes roll by. She felt so hated, so unwanted. It was unbearable, painful. And as she slowly closes her eyes, she dreams of a time she was loved and she thinks to herself, ' And now I die alone.'