It pours to the floor
in splashing crimson silk
with storys or horror
boiling anger unspilt

suffocated in fumes
of ashes from dust
lost in tunnles
of pretended lust
drowning in music
of anger and endings
she's a gurl pretending

she made it seem
her life was good
made you think
you understood
she'd excuse her bruises
of clumsy accuses
lived life as you would

She's frailed and used
broken and abused
her memorys are vile
But you'll always
see her smile
 
Copyright © mysticcollision, All Rights Reserved