She was under the tree

I saw her sitting there.
A flowing waterfall of bronze was her hair.

I wanted to approach, but her look was sorrow.
Maybe, perhaps tomorrow.

Tomorrow is another day I might see her.
But then again, I don't think shes going anywhere.

All I could do was stare.
Stare at that girl sitting over there.

There, under that oak tree of mass.
She once had tears like broken glass.

She doesn't move, I wonder why.
Talk to her? Should I try?
Cant talk to her today.
Wont let me.
Maybe I should I go away...

She is starting to look familiar now.
What a feeling... What? How?

I can see blood on her face.
She has nothing, only disgrace...
Beauty is leaving where it used to reside.
Why do I suddenly want to hide?

Wait.
I can see it now...
NO!
It cant be, but how!?

The girls heart has now long stopped.
As she sits under the tree, carefully propped.

Blood running from her face that used to be beautiful.
With myself, I cant even be truthful.

Who am I?
And what have I done?
If I cant trust myself, can I trust anyone?