Scarlett

Her breathing is unsteady and no one heeds her cries.
What’s left of her faith unravels before her daring eyes
Crushed rose petals rest by her bed-ridden side.
She can trust no one; so where do her secrets hide?

The cool, tear-stained pillow caress her wounded face,
Her pale, cold body is wrapped in nothing but ribbons and lace.
Self-esteem is not on the agenda, not part of the plan.
This confidence, only she posses and only she can.

She receives her final breath; this child is indeed blessed.
Such lack of passion, but fogs up windows nonetheless.
Who would ever think that laying dead here, this young starlet,
Would be bleeding such a beautiful, forgotten color: scarlet.