Her strange destitute chokes her slowly
Rapping her in sheets of regret and anger
Developing hate through a loveless stranger
Hurt is like a winding road
But shes so blind to see the end
perhaps her death was only a parcile of your worries
slowly she gasps for survival upon a bed of hopeless cruelty
tormented by her pain she begins to fade
If only cures for hearts were found
Then her disease would be less lethal as it seems
Perhaps the scars will fade and she will remove the empty rage
Or perhaps she will find her hope within this broken page
