It's an Echo ((Remember her))

Little whitewash bench glistens in the sun.
Too hot for a day so cold.
Prickle-bushes scratch her legs as she wades through,
wishing for something hard to hold.

Sits on the little whitewash bench,
sun blinds her, encouraging the tears.
Blood trickles down her legs again,
echoing her childish fears.

Is anybody going to stop by this bench?
Or is it just her...alone again?
Cliche to say, she's living her fear
but promises save her from sin.

Desire to throw up, get it out,
tears already clash with the sunshine.
Sparkling mist, doesn't matter, doesn't matter.
Pay her no form of mind.

Swears to God and all the people below
that she's fine, oh yes, just fine.
But she's wondering now if the blood on her legs,
if it's her one and only little sign.

If a girl dies tomorrow, will you hang your head?
You promised her forever and a day.
Will you cry simple tears and proclaim your love?
My dear, you'd be far too late.

Swings creak quietly, an echo of laughter,
mockery of what once was true.
"Die for me, die for me," they're singing they're song,
but she's screaming out "live for me too".

She sits on the bench, watches the breeze.
It floats by, just leaving her alone.
Listens to the swings sing, and the birds chatter on.
She listens to the cicadas drone.

When tomorrow you wake, she'll be gone from you,
and I pray that you cry out for her.
God knows she wants something to live for again...
but it's an echo now, the laughter.