The Final Girl Hour 14

The Final Girl (Valkyrie)

Ultimate survivor in wait,
Her life force comes from deep within,
Triggered when threatened, hearing cries,
She develops a thicker skin.

Ultimate survivor in wait,
Entombed in cabin, observing,
Her quick brain constantly working,
Never taking the offered bait,
Innocence, a repellent trait,
Detached from her peers without sin,
Counting the deaths as they roll in,
Standing strong, everyone dies,
Espying Dyer-Bolique’s lies,
And plotting to save her own skin.

Her life force comes from deepest fate,
To suffer whatever we bring,
But I am skilled at surviving,
Pitied for my mechanic gate,
She assumes he forced me to date,
Night blinded from my bleak killing,
She offers some kind assisting,
To save me from master of flies,
A master I cannot despise,
She follows my painful limping.

Triggered when threatened by night’s fate,
I suggest until dawn, hiding,
She acquiesces, abiding,
Breathing heavy, fear, I relate,
Trusting me, a trait too innate,
Closing her eyes, quick slumbering,
Resting her head, now lumbering,
In the garden shed we disguise,
I carefully plan her demise,
Secateurs ready for cleaving.

Ultimate survivor in wait,
I develop a thicker skin,
A strange noise draws her from hiding,
Alone, confused, mind in a state,
She marches heedlessly to fate,
Behind her I stride, lumbering,
Secateurs assist bleak killing,
From back of neck comes the surprise,
Three poor clips, and Final Girl dies,
Painful demise, encumbering.

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