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The cut bleeds red,
A smile lights her face.
Blood runs down her skin:
A warm trace

Of the pain that she feels,
It's there, deep below,
Deep into her mind:
What mother doesn't know.

Her eyes bleed clear blood
That falls down her face.
Tears fall onto the pillow,
Or fall into space.

She cries herself to sleep
Each night, morale low,
'Til she dreams of naught:
What mother doesn't know.

The girl lay there silent,
Skin pearly white,
Eyes showing nothing,
Not even sight.

Her body cold,
As still as a crow,
Mind finally at peace:
What mother didn't know.
©2006-2010 ~FallenAngel8
:iconfallenangel8:

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:iconmikey-madness:
Very powerful; and thought provoking to say the least.

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Look my gallery, leave a few words. I won't mind. I swear! :D :P :)
:daprints: available!
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“Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.” -- Henry Ward Beecher
:iconunwell91:
this is really good..I can Relate..nice

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Beacuse you know, It seems to me that, aside from being a little mentaly ill, she seems pretty normal

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August 24, 2006
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