Sick

A young girl sits, arms gently crossed with her face tilted upward showing bemused visage. Her fingertips move lightly across her pale skin, playing out a melody only she can hear.

Blind eyes turn toward the danger of her beauty. Overlooked are the ugly truths of the soul as pleasantries and entertainment are longed for.

Corrupt sickness rots her body outward from the core. Debilitating, crippling, confining. The screams released do nothing to quiet the flames so she catches her breath to quell the noise.

Death's hands fold and patiently wait as her mouth moves silently and her mind screams without sounding alarm. Her face a portrait of feigned indifference; strong beauty that gives no inclination to the putrid flesh that lies beneath.