Her Story

Four hundred pages
Three hundred memories
Two hundred tears
One hundred characters gone.

A pen and paper, the killer's weapons
The blood splatters, a killer's mark
Emotions boil creating a storm
They are not real – my mother says
My heart is torn.

The door opens, flooding in light
I step in, my dimension is in sight
I start falling, the wind whistles in my ears
The net catches me, I am safe in here.