Here's a poem I wrote a little while ago for a piece of artwork I had done. Basically in the photograph there's a woman laying spread across a stone staircase out in a park- in the background there is another woman sitting, contemplaiting, with a large stone in her hand.

The one with the stone killed the other, obviously.

Here's the poem; Seven.

Seven years to build the hate,
seven months to plan the kill.

Seven days to tie her fate,
seven seconds to die still.

Seven steps she fell across,
seven sins she has lost.