A nightmare. Beautiful and sharp revenge.
Her blade in moonlight, twist of wrist, she grins.
A slice! A stab! The florid fountain spills.
Releasing, stained with pain and blood, she laughs
At purled screaming, lighting eyes abright.
In death he writhes. And no one comes: not Death,
Not God--just her. A laughing, dripping taste
Of torture soaks across her spectral smile.~Lorna Marie Larson
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