Perfectly poised
Like a ballerina on a tightrope
Every muscle in absolute harmony
She would pirouette
Beneath the old church arches
Candle light dancing on her skin
Like the ghosts of lovers past
Her face never betrays 
The strain upon her soul
As the choir raise their voices in devotion
The defiance in her heart
Rises to its own crescendo
She leaps
Without care
But lands with perfect grace

Her tears
The rain on stained glass windows
Her dreams
Their washed out colors in the moonlight

Searching for a saviour
Or
The key to her coffin
She reaches
But  no-one takes her hand
Instead
They throw scripture like stones

Still she holds her form
A vision of innocence bathed in sin
such lonely beauty

They crucify her
With their judgments
Nail her to the cross with razor blades
Drink her blood in communion for the damned
To cleanse their souls of guilt

Still there is no retribution for the 'one'







The one who lead her to the gates of hell