Distorted

She forces a breath

as the cigarette burns in her fingers

the embers dying as they fall

She leans against the dirty concrete wall

cloaked in shadow, the poisoned breath in her lungs

she watches the sunset fade

between the cracks in the sidewalk

oange blood spilling over thin transluscent veins

Brushing back the pale hair that hides her eyes

she reveals her eyes that no one dares to see

they are white and lifeless

more those of a demon then a girl

She stands back from the wall

her cigareette crushed below

she opens her mouth and screams

calls like a cat in pain

curls back her pink lips

to reveal the danger in herself

in the starlight-stained incisors

"Let the hunt begin."

I cry out

in helplessness

in a need to tell the world

that the portrait I have just painted

the mental image of this placid girl

with the cigarette burning between pale fingers

is instantly changed

distorted

as I die.