november 18, 1998.
still 3 am.
the familiar visitor standing
in front of me
wiped the sharp steel knife
against the fabric of her clothing,
in hopes to clean
the dripping blood.
dripping like a sweet honey.
berry coloured nectar
might look so sweet to you.
but it was merely from
the cruel slice of flesh
of the one over a hundreds
of people she-
slaughtered.