Miss H

Deep within the troubled soul;
underneath the toughend skin;
far beyond the frozen glare;
down beneath the wretched smile;
past the hate inside the blood lies the love lost and long forgotten, hardend by the bitter air which she draws in with a withered stare.
Hate is her passion; heart breaking's her game; through the life of others she has stopped her own.
Daylight'd turn her to dust just as soon as she glimpsed the buring of the flame.