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