As new,
as the simple black pen
and neatly placed pages of
empty paper waiting upon a lonely looking,
modestly crafted wooden table - her thoughts
were most likely her’s to keep now.

As right,
as the half-sided curtain hanging over the only window,
but Swastika eyes ruled over right and wrong here.
A window just that too high too see out of,
even on tip-toes. The words written and
prayers smitten make no difference now.

As guilty,
as any student with a conscience, she never
lost her head until the very end. Her eyes
didn’t see an end though, just a passage
to a better place - where the sun still shone
upon white roses.