A window in your grave.

Blood red hair and lily white skin
Jet black stare of piercing hate
Conceals the torment living within
Death is what she contemplates

Thin, pursed lips curl into a smile
A satisfactory smirk of crimson pain
In the darkness she lays awhile
For sanity's grasp to slowly regain

Congealed and bloody she lays her head
Upon the icy, concrete floor
Her pain threshold has long since fled
And now she craves for more and more

Takes her blade and places the edge
Once more upon the bare, grey floor
"Medicated minds are over rated"
These are the words she vengefully scrawls

From dusk to dawn she lays awake
Heart pounding in her sodden hand
Vows this to be the last smile she'll fake
That no-one else will understand

No longer does she drift so dolefully
In realms of night, watching the moon
No longer does she cry red tears
Or gaze at life in empty gloom

And none of you can save her now
There was no pain that she forgave
So sit and stare beside her headstone
As though there's a window in her grave.