Ég er ekki viss um hvort þetta flokkast sem smásaga eða ljóð o.O. Persónulega finnst mér þetta vera ljóð en kannski er þetta of langt til þess. Eru annars einhverjar reglur á því hversu langt ljóð má vera?



Everything is quite; the town has gone to sleep this winter night.
The moon opens his tiered eyes, lazily he looks down.
No one notices a strange man walking by except for the moon.
Under the cold, February sky a drunk man walks down the street.
Death is lurking in the shadows, close behind him.
Death and his whiskey bottle are his allays.
Who is going to be their victim tonight? The moon wonders.

A beauty filled with innocence lies in here bed, head filled with dreams.
Little does she know about the man in the shadows,
Which will soon steal her breath, and sentence her to death.
He creeps besides her bed, fingers trample with tension,
Just before he slides them around her throat.
Her eyes open; look at him with blue guileless.
Her red, lustful lips perform the words: ,,You!”

There is no judgment, no hate or anger, only a pity and affection.
He tightens his grip but her eyes won’t close.
He crushes her neck, so soft and warm.
Still these oceans, blue eyes look at him with compassion.
Finally her eyes close but her mouth performs a smile.
His hands starts to shake, he looks away.
Her eyes look at him once again and then she is gone.

Now she lies, for ever gone, quite and still like a doll. His angel.
Eyes wide open but all purity, all life has vanished.
Once had those eyes been full of happiness.
He lies next to her as his darkness is sucked out of his soul.
He lays his fingertips on her stunning face,
And weeps, heart full of sadness for his sins.
Cries because of the darkness he could not controle.

The murderer’s tears are spilled all over her pillow.
There he lies, cries and finally closes her eyes.
His fingers feel her cold face that once was warm and smiling.
He lays his hand over her heart that once had been his.
Witches of jealousy and hate had poisoned his mind.
They had filled his heart and soul with anger and suspicion.
What did she do? She looked at him with sympathy.

-His dry lips whisper through the tears: ,,I am truly sorry.”
But nobody hears except for the moon
since his angel is forever gone.


Jóhanna Margrét Sigurðardótti