The Truth

-- i wrote this poem last year and just found it lying in my drawer, decided to post it up xox --

The shadows move silently,
not a whisper in the dark,
The floor shakes violently,
as from the ground appears a mark.

The mark to show the end,
no more light arriving,
Mr. Death has one final message,
and this should not be surprising

The silver slashes her flesh,
Crimson rivers begin to flow
Her head now in utter mess,
As she sways to and fro.

Too much crimson in the river,
Collapsing, no more air,
A ghost begins to slither,
To haunt the ones who didnt care

Shocked faces, tears and screams,
No one thought this of the girl,
She always seemed so keen.

Keen to keep on living,
Keen to keep on surviving,
If only they realised this poor girl,
Really felt like dying..