Not a breath from her lungs,
Not a beat from her heart.
Just a tear stained face,
And the label a tart.
Still hurting inside,
Though it still doesn't show,
Still putting on a front,
Never seems to feel low.
But now she lays frozen,
In my arms on the floor,
Maybe if i'd helped her,
I f i had notuced before.
In her hand cluthced a knife,
and beside her a note,
that was covered with blood
that had shed while she wrote.
No more tears in the night
no more attempts for her death
for now she had gone,
she had drawn her last breath.
her soul has gone to heaven
her body lay in my arms
no longer can they hurt her
or cause her more harm.
