Poetry #136

I told
her that
I will
save her.

Her neck
was wrapped
with rope.

The last
vanity she
will wear.

Her skin
looked pale
as well
her hair,
lifeless white.

Her feet
shaking and
doubting if
her decision
was right.

She had
been there
all these
time and
no one
bothered to
help her.

But here
I am,
standing right
in front
of her.

I took
the chair
she was
standing on
and sat.