Flecks.

Those flecks of red
strewn through her hair,
they never have made her
much more fair.

And the flecks of hate,
tossed through her life
never let her give in,
or put up a good fight...

Because her flecks of blood
still pound the floor.
From poison and lies,
to flow evermore.

And the flecks of green
spattered in her eyes,
contrasted the crimson.
Bright as Christmas lights.

But every light fades,
and fountains run dry.
So her blue eyes sealed shut,
without a fleck of "Goodbye."