Covers her face with her titian hair,
Her skin as pale as smoke.
Her blood bitten lips release no words,
Sooner or later she'll choke.
She pains herself daily by looking in the mirror,
Staring back is the face of someone dying.
Her blue eyes framed by deep, dark circles,
Marks of the tiredness and the crying.
She knows deep down she must get help,
But she doesn't know where to go,
She'd rather be left to suffer in silence,
And no one ever has to know.
She wishes she could express herself,
But she doesn't have a soul anymore,
Destroys herself with love she won't give,
Finds comfort on the floor.
The music she used to listen to,
Is now foreign for her to hear.
Only songs about "happiness" or "being in love"
No songs about pain or fear.
She knows the world can't save itself,
And now neither can she.
She knows that nothing lasts forever,
So why can't anyone else see?
------- Author's Notes -------
Any guesses as to who "She" is...?
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Mike (184.108.40.206) -- Monday, April 25 2005, 01:15 pm|
10 out of 10 for me... I guess it's you. xD And Holly, you're on the brink of getting help. Don't let it all go to waste now.
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