Her name is Beautiful Misery
her cries are often heard
she hangs around with deathly hearts
and she often follows the herd
The herd of broken memories
and the emotional, crying clones
and the little boys who smoke to be cool
and the girls, who are raped at home
She seems to think she's alright
but her sorrows and cries overpower
she looks in the mirror at her shrinking body
her fingers down her throat every hour
I know the girl, Beautiful Misery
she weeps within my soul
the girl, she is me, in every aspect
and her life, it seems so cold.
