Blood flows from re-opened wounds, 

An eerie and silent yearning, rekindled

As I read those morbid words. 

The sadness of that girl

Struck a nerve I assumed was singed

And my life flashed before the eyes of a ghostly soul, 

Truth seeping in, rising froma shadowy subconscious, 

The horror of her fatal blood-blath,

 Dripping from the unwanted reflection 

In crude, crimson letters - 

"Am I beautiful enough now?"

I was too late to tell her 

What I needed to hear.