It weighed on her mind,
silent and deadly,
cold and unforgiving,
a shadow over her light.

She ran far and wide,
she cried tears of pain,
she fought long battles,
but the memories stayed.

Whispers broke through,
her sanity slipping away,
word for word,
every rumor coming true.

Sometimes she was a murderer,
a thief or a bandit,
sometimes she was a young girl,
pure as fresh snow.

But it couldn't be denied,
this girl meant danger,
doors locked and windows closed,
when she roamed the streets.

One day, she was found,
dead upon the street,
a smile gracing her features,
and her arms welcoming death.

The girl was gone,
but her memory not,
and for years to come,
the stories were told.

Society twists tales of woe,
victimizing those like her,
and then cries for the loss of
young souls gone forever.

Death is their escape,
so they flee,
and leave behind stories,
for me... To tell you.