I recall watching her heart as it gently began to sink
At first, it was as light as a feather floating in the wind before it began to shrink
calloused and cold withered dried remanence of the red ink
trying to collect the shattered pieces together like paper machete barely holding on together
the beat of her heart became shallow and dark
but yet there was once a time
where she believed that she was a walking work of art,
Now she's tormented by their attempts to chisel and destroy, chipping at every single bit of her parts
away, she can't escape the agonizing clutch of this endless rainy day,
clouded, while she's met with the despise of everything that they spew and what they convey,
swaying upon their own pathetic displays, but she's weep and questions, who am I, anyway,
I attempt to scrub off the muck of the day,
while I'm ingesting the burning fumes that circulate through my airways I attempt to scream
I raging in the storm of the abuse
I'm traumatized inside my mind
I close my eyes for a recluse wishing that I was blind
now she blankly stares at the rain as it trickles tracing along her scarred lines
Questioning: How does one's love and trust extend pasted a crossed line?
now the hatred flashes back to the dreaded scene of the crime
where a delicate touch is contrarily defined
she's lost and I can clearly see it in the void of her isolated eyes
as the sweep of darkness collides
she cries from the inside feeling cracked and dried
begging for the pain to subside
somehow will the pain to subside
her innocence is now stained as she watched it die
tears of joy gone all just for a ride
down the road, the price is now taking its toll
the hellfire is blazing at her soul charring at her bones
the embers burns and radiate
her skin blisters developing holes in her state
withdrawals acids regurgitate
but yet somehow she still scrubbing at the stain of her self hate
glass half-filled spilled now empty crushed under the weight
let me help pull out of this hole and be your counterweight
not one minute in her pillows her heads in it, she cries to sleep
the agony heartache as she screams and weeps
burning a cigarette to dry her tears
drugs numbing her pain the coldness n her veins
till she can no longer feel now revenge is fair
and not part of the game she ain't playing anymore
ideas of fun evermore not amused
I will be there for her always
I lend her my hand but in her storm her thunder refused
holding to the idea that her kindness was once weakened now abused