The Curse

Standing firm in her beliefs
Is a soul condemned to die
Knowing that her pitiful life
Has gone horribly awry.
She knows not of her crimes
Only the sentence of death
Predisposition is a curse
That will take away her breath.
With silky hair the color of gold
And shining emerald eyes
She looks into her enemy
And through the deceptive lies.
Many whisper in the crowds
Of her blackened heart
Not knowing that the courageous soul
Is ready to depart.
With tears streaming down her cheeks
And a gentle smile
She knows that it will be done
This self loathing trial.
So as she looks into the mirror
And steadies her nerves
She tells the voices in her head
That this is what she deserves.
She takes her punishment willingly
Remembering all her strife
For a sharpened blade is all she needs
To take away her life.