cold pistol against my head.
down on your knees, you said.
to be forgotten on this dreary snow.
bleeding trails of blood as I go.
my life flashes before me.
images of you raping me, taunting me, diminishing me into nothingness.
now death leads me here, here to you times ten.
where I have come to haunt you, the undead.
By Lisa Grisly Miller
