Thinking about the dagger
that will put you to sleep.
It filled me with dread
But their eyes were on me.

"Lovely can't possibly be an option"
But it was, and I was so glad,
I'm sure my skin looked ashen,
my stomach replaced by knots.

You deserved better. A loving hand.
Instead, you were scorched, damned.
I tried to make it beautiful,
So beauty is the last thing you'll see.

But that choice isn't mine to make.

So here I am. I hope and I pray
You knew some pleaded for mercy.
When you let out your last breath
I hope your soul rests easy.

You were loved.
You are loved.

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Chronos, in the year 951 AF.