Flames burst alive in the grate
wildly prancing in a rhyme.
And the wood burns away
engulfing evidence of the crime.
A broken pen, a smashed ink-pot,
papers strewn all over the place.
The clock strikes one, it strikes two
A broken knife left in haste.
Whining of the wolves is heard
heard by the nothingness in the inn.
Leaves rustle and fall on the path
lined by an old bench and upturned bin.
Rats play hide and seek in the attic,
creaking stairs lead into the hall.
A calendar dates to ten years ago,
On the couch lies a forgotten doll.
No blood was spilled, no screams heard
Neither bullets fired nor flesh ripped apart,
A simple piece of parchment sent
That killed all that lay in her heart…


-Sameen