Number Six

She sits pretty,

pink wig on. White

top, tank.

The sleeves off

her shoulders.

 

He had adorned

her hair with flowers,

creating pigtails.

Her eyes were glazed,

frozen.

 

Her mouth was partially

open, as if she were exhaling.

Blood poured

from her throat, cut.

He only did that

 

to the ones he loved.