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The Cries of a Tortured Soul (finishmeoff) wrote,
@ 2003-11-07 18:40:00
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    Current mood: sad
    Current music:the martyr

    In this empty room
    All the chairs are unoccupied
    The open casket
    Holds a body that lived
    Way too long past the death
    Of her soul
    Her long black hair faded gray
    Her open black eyes
    Allowed tears to escape
    The cool night
    Apologized for being late
    And with its breath
    Collected her into its arms
    And sung a lullaby of rain
    As the banshees shrilled
    They too, delayed
    There was no name
    Upon the tombstone
    For she never truly existed
    And the grave was dug out
    By those she cared for
    The ones that killed her
    And her last breath
    Was a question to God above
    Even in her final moments
    He did not answer her
    He hushed her crying and
    He laughed when he cut her veins
    She lifelessly fell back onto her bed
    And painted her sheets red with her wrists
    A fountain that bled out her entire story
    And she lied there until
    Morning would find her
    Daylight touched her pale face
    Neutral on the discovery
    The bell didn't ring
    The people muttered
    "She was just a ghost trapped inside a body"
    They took her body
    And carried it to
    this empty room where
    No tears are shed
    She never truly existed


    ~ "Late" by Monique G.



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