She cried out from the depths of her heart,
A plea to the dead hearts of rogue men,
And weary ears of unheeding angels...
Tired of the void that filled the space between her tears and her smiles,
Her mind started to sway. It swayed between memories...
Unwilling to face this day's tragedies;
Her eyes were red from endless weeping.
Lost sons don't make for cheerful countenance.
Her heart still strong, but only just beating.
Her eyes, a pale red; the tears obscured them.
The fear in her eyes, the tremor in her voice.
Dried tears lined her cheeks, dead daughters numbed her wit.
She'd grown used to the pain,
Almost lived for the suffering.
Who wouldn't trade new pain,
For heartbreak to fade to memory?