Author's Note: Rest assured, dear friends, that this was whipped up in a matter of minutes, with no prior thought. That's why it's kind if ill written and has no point. >3
Inclining her head toward the wind,
She sensed the passing of her kin.
And in her heart she drew her sorrow,
And left it brooding ‘till the morrow.
Inclining her heart toward the flame,
She drew up in her heart the blame.
She drew up in her heart her sin,
And cursed the curse that killed her kin.
She knew then what was to be done.
Before the setting of the sun,
She drew five points there on the ground,
And then a circle there around.
She shouted boldly all the words
That’d brought the demons by the herds.
She begged the monsters, “Bring them back!”
They laughed, and vanished with a crack.
She dropped thereafter to the floor,
And tried the awful spell once more.
But, alas, to no avail,
There rang again a mocking wail.
“If they won’t take me…” she sighed,
Her silence, then, had much implied
That with her father’s trusty knife,
She then herself could end her life.