Black Dahlia

It isn't fair. You walked upon floors of shining gold and jewels, bathed in exotic spices and fragrant flowers. Your hands are as soft as silk, never daring to lift more than a silver spoon to coat your tongue with the honeyed fruits of my labor. 

Hatred swarms my blood as the flies that plagued my broken body do. My tears are the only water I can drink, bitter and burning against my lips. 

You will be immortalized within the palace walls; your porcelain body laid to rest. I will be a lump of dirt, a sacrifice to the Earth in hopes of a new life. 

You could not take the one thing you desired, the last of my possessions. My heart is still within my chest while yours stains my hands in lovely shades of fury. 

Yes, what a joyous sight it had been. You were as broken as I for a moment in time. Your castle was reduced to crumbling sand before me. I held what no other could begin to touch, and I had relished your pain as I destroyed it. 

I wiped your tears when your favorite jewel was sullied. You laughed as my spine broke under your pressure. I searched the lands for the finest leaves in which to make your tea; you would not spare a cup of water. Your lips boast of great adventures and the highest finery, your throat spewing lies with ease. You claimed the Earth was yours if you so wished, no thing could escape your grasp. 

When will you learn? I am more human than you. You are the one who has become a thing, a monster to prey on desperate souls. Pretty decoration to hide the blood in the cellar, no more use than a glistening rock. I am the ocean, sent to drown you. You filled your lungs with me, believing you could own me. Your hands grasped my waves, and I slipped through your fingers. I am the trees, I remember. Though my body may turn to dust my soul lives in the branches that saw your misdeeds. Take an axe to my bark and scream as I do not fall under your blade. I am the ground you wish to tread upon, daring to spit upon me. I watch as you fall through my cracks and laugh as your bones break upon my stones. You say there is no thing you cannot have, yet you forget I am not a thing. I am the fear that creeps down your neck, the hatred that sears your mind. 

Yes. Sit pretty within your beautiful walls, light your incense and pray to your gods. The gods refuse to hear you. 

No longer will my body be another unmarked grave, the only proof of your transgressions. No longer will your words destroy my mind as I beg for mercy on your golden floors. 

As I lay dying, I feel no fear. No sorrow, no regret. You took those emotions from me as I took your sanity. Do you still believe I am the one insane? Perhaps I am. Is that why I laughed as you broke? The way you had broken me? If I am insanity, then you are destruction. You destroyed every good thing in your path. 

I loathe you with every ounce of my being. I care not for a peaceful death; I wish for the world to mourn. I wish for the people to see the state of my corpse as I rot. The way you took every part of me. You took my eyes, so I could not see your wicked smile. You took my ears so I would not hear your evil schemes. You took my hands and feet so I could not run. 

You asked why I had not left if it was truly so bad, but where was I to go? Beyond your rose-colored windows only death awaited me. Dirty streets and groping hands. No family nor friend would open their doors, they believe these marks upon my soul were due to my own faults. 

Now, surely, you had learned your lesson. I had denied you my heart. Despite all your greed it is something you will never have, not even as you tried to cut it from my chest. 

Your anger was expected, if not welcomed. My choice in the matter taken as your gold and jewels could do nothing to stop the flow of fate. My blood stains your floors, my cries marked on the Earth.

"It isn't fair." I had whispered to no one but myself.

Now, your expression is priceless, your pain is beautiful. 

Is this what you felt? How truly drunk off of power I am as you fall before me, cries for mercy replacing your glittering lies. Oh, how sweet. I savor this. Your helplessness, your confusion.

No promise of heaven nor threat of hell could compare, my bones dried in the earth yet my spirit standing before you. 

Burn me to ash, call your priests and hold your holy books for they mean nothing to me. Feel my brokenness, feel my death and drown in my blood. 

It isn't fair. How dare you walk where I once crawled, laugh where I once cried? Your glittering trophies adorn the walls that saw your sins. You drink of expensive alcohols that fuel your violence and laugh. How dare you? I lived as a broken shell, incapable of anything beyond surviving, and even that was stripped away from me.

In life you escaped my revenge, your power over me steadfast. In my death I was given the power of the Earth and all her fury. I clawed my way back with every intent to rip your beating heart from your chest, and I did. 

No one will leave flowers for my grave, yet dahlias bloom beautifully, a symbol. A warning. You paid no mind, but I did. I refuse to have died for nothing. It isn't fair. I will drag you over your floors made with gold and jewels, choke you with your spices and flowers, tear you apart with your silver spoon. Then I can rest. Only then will it be fair.