She felt a dagger drawn into her back.
Wrenching with pain soaked in blood
she turned behind only to find
the killer was none other than
the hand that she leaned on
during her darkest times.
Perhaps too dark for her to see
and recognize the difference
between the hands of a killer
and the hands of a healer.
She is filled with anger
She is filled with pain.
Filled with vengeance, to her killer,
she had this to say –
'You killed my trust (in you)
but my trust in trust you cannot kill
I shall trust my friends, anyway !'
