Blood Stained Hands

A bleeding angel fallen from grace,
A gothic child born of society,
Flowing crimson rivers from the silver glint,
Simply to release this anxiety.
She walks through this life as a shadow in the world,
Invisible to most people's eyes,
Untouchable for her blood stained hands,
Their ears deafened to her cries.
She feels the pain of her loss as she wanders the land,
Feels the screams in the back of her mind,
These people are not her friends as they trap her,
Caught, cornered, confined.
The beauty she once saw has been dragged down by the horrors,
Life stained a bleeding red behind her tear stained eyes,
The life she loved and the people she felt she needed
Are slowly drowning in the hate, unable to rise.
Slowly the days stretch into weeks,
The weeks into years,
And still no one hears her sobs
And the falling of her tears.
So as her body drops to the ground
And the foul stench of death and decay fills the air,
The people around finally notice her,
But the damage is done, too late to repair.

©Copyright of Holly Nia Goodson