The girl's heart was racing, pumping it's life,
Through her frail dying body, as thin as a knife.
The doctors who rushed ‘cross the hallways in panic,
Heard a father screaming: angry, volcanic.
He shouted and tore at the sheets on her cot,
Nurses tried to sedate him- they tried- they could not.
The words that he hurled and slashed at her face,
Left them all in a dreadful state of disgrace.
The room grew silent with one final flare,
Of the anger her father had spread everywhere.
The beeping had ceased, the room was pure silence,
The man's fists were clenched and his anger in balance.
He smiled and turned with a satisfied sneer,
For he knew that his troubles would never reappear.
She was gone with his fears of a stained reputation,
Of what he knew to be the greatest sin of creation.
But years ago in a small dusty ghost-town,
They were known as the happiest family around.
Their smiles were warming, their name full of merit,
Before her poor father learned what was so esoteric.
His daughter had fallen, fallen in love,
With a young, fair-skinned girl he would soon get rid of.
The old haggard father failed to understand,
How the love between no one should ever be banned.
He pulled down his rifle, shining and strong,
And ran to the house humming a baleful song.
“I cannot allow such a sin to occur,
Her lover will feel my wrath in a blur,
I shall pull out her heart and feast in her sin,
I'll kill the dark spot lying within.
Tear at the limbs and shoot at the head,
Then peel back her sin, blacker than lead.
Their love is a sin, wicked and evil,
But I will save my daughter from her own devil.”
As the heavens cracked open, releasing their tears,
The furrow-browed father exposed all their fears.
The door burst off it's hinges, scattering splinters,
It fell on the couple lacing their fingers.
They stood tall and strong with their hands clutched together,
As they fell to the ground, light as a feather.
The bullets they flew ‘cross the room in a shower,
Even as they fell, just as in love, they fell together.
They fell together, to the ground,
Their hair and hands entwined in a beautiful mound.
Their blood a testament of their great passion,
Death was the answer to what wasn't in fashion.