alone

English: 19th century Burmese temple painting. Tempura-like paint on cotton. 47” x 35” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Alone.

Sealed in stone; a vile of blood drenched clothes.

Ragged worn, torn at the seams they tell a story.

Not uncommon to life itself, words of suffering from a person that held none at all.

Life has given her one of its thrashings. Soulless eyes look out, blank and void, not even the pain of Tartarus suffices.

It pours from the womb, a black coating that envelops the innocence of a heart and rips it asunder.

A broken mirror is all that is left to tell the tale.

Her eyes cry clear liquid as it melts her flesh.

My eyes cry crimson as it builds it.