Behind a solid cloak of black garb, the poor girl resides.
Instead of talking and writing, it is in ebony attire she tries to hide
Once, in the distant past she appeared to be a happy child in pink
Unknown to her friends and family, suicide was all she cold think.
In her dreams every night, when she could actually fall asleep
she would be tortured with old memories that made her weep.
When she was just a little girl her stepdad would turn a eye
At night, he would come to her room, and next to her he would lie
Despite her instincts to scream she was scared into dead silence
for if her stepdad said if she made one peep there'd be violence.
He would quietly undress her from her clothes, then his own,
which would lead to total obedience allowing her to be thrown
The most lucrative things happened to her, and then some more.
Finally after an hour or so, he's retreat back to the door.
Slowly but surely, the depression took over the innocent girl's life
eventually leading to desire of cold steel of a deadly knife
As the cutting deepened and became a frequent every-night thing
family time withered away, and friends would never give a ring.
Silence overtook her, leading people to make constant fun
as well as everyone coaxing her to make friends with a gun.
To detract the unwanted attention, she dressed to bring fear,
hoping the dark shades would make her eventually disappear.
The taunting and ridicule is still delivered upon her heart,
making her heart and life even more tattered and falling apart.
And every night, the reoccurring dreams return to her mind,
and in the bathroom holding a rusty razor, she did find.
As though in a trance, the blade was placed over her pale wrist
while torturous memories came back; too many to list.
A quick movement released not just blood, but years of pain.
Upon the floor, the ruby red flowed and pooled like a steady rain
but instead of stopping at one slice, she began to cut even more.
At last, she was free of her memories as she slumped to the floor
