Burn and Wilt

A young girl lying on the ground,
Crying out her heart,
Her spirit broken and her mind shattered,
Her soul torn apart.

Her tears fall down, her flesh is cut,
And so her blood is spilt,
The young girl she once was
Is left to burn and wilt.

A ghost of the girl she once was before,
The joy and happiness she used to hold,
But those days are long gone and her soul lies empty,
As her mind grows numb and cold.

She sees her reflection,
So pasty, pale, and white,
Enveloped by the pressing darkness
Of this world of forever night.

She looks down at the blood on her hands,
As it gushes from her open wounds,
She feels empty and cold as she dies,
Feeling her eternal Death loom.

With her last strength she turns away from her reflection
And all that it has shown,
She sits and writes this poem,
So her pains can finally be known.

So Death came for her far too early,
Even though she chose when she would go,
But her final poem, her pain, her goodbye,
Finally let them know.

They know the nights she cried
For what she thought she was and what she could be,
Until she couldn't bear it any longer,
She forced them to open their eyes and see.

© Copyright of Holly Nia Goodson