Spirit

How can you forgive her?
How can you trust her?
Her tongue is forked
And her eyes deceiving
What is this hope you have
For a naked girl
Torn,
Living in the river of blood
From her victims?
Why have faith?
She is a liar
She is a beggar
She is a thief
And nothing more.

How can you do this?
Care so much for bones unbroken
And blood best left spilled
On the floor?
She is sickly on the inside.
Like a rose she seems fragile, warm
Soft,
But hidden beneath white satin petals
Are hot, red thorns,
Ever ready to pry the blood from your pores.
She is full of anger
Hate
Which she desires to spread to you.
She is trapped inside a circle
Built of thick iron
That appears to be thin glass.
Ready to shatter
Into one million tiny pieces
That she can never reconstruct.