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"untitled"
by theusedpoet (2005-05-19.00) |
empty
she can slowly feel her life drain
the blood overflowing-
the emotion damaged.
she was never good at not lieing-
at being beautiful.
it was always a game for her,
one she mastered and reigned.
i guess the jump off the pedestal
was too much for her.
the surprise of glass
that has jaded her soul-
too deep for her.
covered in dreams and smiles
she can barely lift her head,
and yet she whispers into the night-
her presence softly singing lullabyes
her blood so red
that she's consumed by it
and now addicted-
breath will never be the same. |
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