In the dark embraces of slumber's call,
ashen memories linger as dancing wraiths
eloquent melodies weaving intricate
among the lilies growing delicate
in the deep crevices of her mind.
Demons crawling, their nails sharp
wreaking havoc on her soul
gently though, with a lover's touch
she never felt them, all that much
destroying the heart that cried.
Darkened eyes flinging hurt
like daggers, at her life, and
the lies she tells every day
when they ask about the scars
up and down her arm.
Never hoping for reform,
she likes the way she hurts;
the band-aids on her heart
cover the pain in part
what her soul has deemed to show.
Hiding in her room, she has no clue
who she is or why she hurts
only knows the sad soft tears
that flood as diamond morphine drops
off her cheeks, to the ground.
Bittersweet calling of the night
begging her to fall,
begging her to take the knife
she's held up all night long.
Falling, freely, dragging down
eyes watching the corners
whispering whims deadly sweet
their voices dashing soft and fleet
telling her to end it all.