A girl walked past,
In a little pink dress,
Cold breeze cutting through her bare skin.
Maybe her cold heart warmed her body,
As she moved unflinching.
She opened a door,
looked at the man inside,
The strings that connected their soul,
Snapped long back,
The day he touched the other woman.
The girl in the little pink dress unzipped her big bag,
A huge thing concealed long inside,
Out it came,
With its shiny blade and wooden end.
The pink dress remained the witness to the terror in his eyes,
As the deadly weapon was laid on his neck,
And thrown at the corner,
Smeared in his blood.