The morn sun, o so bright,
Glinted off her watered eyes -
Innocence at its best.
Disguising is what she did best.
Cold.

Hiding, hold back the pain,
The fear and vengence a furious
Storm of anger and betrayal,
She learned the game well.
Loneliness.

Blood shed all around her,
She could not hold back longer -
Insanity overcame her - one of them.
She played their game well.
Darkness.

She was taken by the sights,
Held by her words, noble
Yet conniving, deceiving
Not only them, but herself.
Solitary confinement.

Holding onto memories,
Of what she had and what
She had lost in the years.
Can she survive her choices?
Heartbroken.

The end, it is done,
Yet her battle is yet to begin -
Making heads or tails of
Her manipulations and lies.
Dying.