Black Heart

She stands atop a boulder,
Her ivory hair aflow,
Stark black dress wavering,
In the howling winds below

The knarled branches,
outstretched to her,
Eager to wrap themselves,
Hungered for lure

The wild winds torment her,
Come with us, they cry,
But she stands still ground,
Dug so deep that none could pry

Then times comes still,
The air becomes tense,
Not a rustle nor twitter is heard,
waiting for something quite immense

She picks up her violin,
tucked under her chin,
Pale fingers, grasping her bow,
Aligned with velvet linen

The winds die down,
The world becomes silent,
To hear her play,
Her sad piece lucent

A small smile creeps up her face,
but only to hide the pain
A thin sheet of glass,
threatening to shatter and rain

Beneath the sham visage,
Dwells the agony inside,
slowing turning her heart
Black as ink abide

No more tears left to shed,
No more words left to speak
She laughs at her foolishness,
She couldn't be weak

The bow strides on,
spinning sad tales,
which she had to endure,
With tears and wailes

No one had heard her,
None bothered to console,
her broken and shattered heart,
Now a black and hated soul

She plays forever on,
THe smile still played on her face,
A small glistening tear,
Soon dissappeared without trace