First blamed for her life,
her private discontent,
then blamed for her death
now a public event
her dried blood on the floor
a grim indication
pointing up at her wounds,
her pain, isolation
the light of the day
brings along its suspicion
it’s judgement, it’s fear,
it’s misplaced superstition
the guilt for us all,
we know who we are
reaching out not a hand
as she fell oh so far
as we sweep her away
wrapped tightly in sheet,
look into your souls
not down to your feet,
the heavy stench lingers,
a haunting reminder,
a sickly sweet malice
for those who may find her.
A spoken word version is available here-http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpeRZz2Eg_A&feature=context&context=G2716825AUAAAAAAABAA
No Tall Stories 
April 6th, 2012 at 7:01 pm
I liked especially, “look into your souls, not down to your feet”—yes, we are each responsible for the other…
April 17th, 2012 at 5:13 pm
First, this is a Gorgeous blog–header, color–very appealing to me. Second, thank you so much for your visit to my place–hope you’ll enjoy the things that are similar to your own writing, and maybe others as well.
Third–this poem grabs me. It is so well done–and reminds me of when my sweet innocent friend was murdered in our school. So young, so shocking.
Have an excellent week–God bless you abundantly.