Struck

And it struck. 

The palm across the face,

Flesh on flesh,

Stinging.

It struck,

A massive blow

Straight to the heart.

Tearing, pulling away the veins.

Blood gushed,

Pouring all over 

Red and gruesome.

Pain. Numbed in pain. 

Darkness, as the blood thinned.

Light faded and pain over powered. 

And, death struck. 

         - Robes of a Muse