The Waterfall

Where tears stream and purge dry cheeks,
and hate runs ramped in dark streaks,

thick and coating as her black hair dye,
weighing down in a life of painful lies,

comments of self destruction run like a stream,
flowing down her cheeks in soft gleam,

where thick turrets of anger thunder down,
resting on innocent heads like a thorned crown,

edging at pure souls to be tainted in blood,
rushing jests suffocating like a flood,

under the fury of the enemies waterfall,
of slurring jests and cutting drawl,

pursuit of hope shows through bleak,
in her weakness the blade shines sleek,

drawing a fable of continuing lies upon her wrist,
thrust and driven from scars on her bloodlust fist,

desolation rings through her ears in a final call,
casting a proclamation of her demise and fall,

as she slowly sinks to the newly stained floor,
her life a symbol of others hate forevermore...