D A Y S

On Day One,
She screamed out in fear,
Of dangers that tear,
And rip into your flesh.

On Day Two,
She started to swear,
No one even gives a care,
And she simply wanted to let go.

On Day Three,
She began to darken,
Her flare no longer sparking,
And she's but a bag of walking bones.

On Day Four,
She had begun to hurt,
Her bloods boil and curt,
And she no longer was innocent.

On Day Five,
She wept about her past,
Hating it for how long it last,
And aching for the way it used to be.

On Day Six,
She laughed along with her demons,
Who all tittered and the screaming,
And where were you when this happened?

On Day Seven,
It was her funeral,
The cries were so damn numeral,
And how could have this happened.

Just a week ago,
Yes, just one week is all it took.