Love of Hate or Hate of Love

She took the knife, so quiet, so smooth,
From the kitchen chest,
She knelt upon the floor so cold,
And held it to her breast.

She uttered in a quiet voice,
Just before her death,
“This is where my pain will end”,
And took her final breath,

Still kneeling down upon the floor,
She looked up to the sky,
To where she thought her god still lay,
She screamed out loud “But Why?”

Love of hate, or hate of love,
It doesn’t matter now,
For those who taught her hate and pain,
She’ll revenge somehow.

On that floor her body laid,
In a pool of blood,
Never to be found again,
By a single black rose bud.