Number 9

Lips and eyes both sewn shut
Arms lined with a repeated cut
Pale white skin with nothing but pins
Paying for all the innocent sins
Bloody tears run down her cheeks
Her future is nothing, pale and bleak
Pain in the heart hurts worst of all
She hangs off the ground, vivid and tall
Hung on a hook, by a ring in her back
People take out knives and begin to hack
She cries muffled screams and the knives slide in
Sending away her eternal sin