The Blood On The Floor(It Wasn't Suicide, It Was Murder)

Theres now nothing left but the blood on the floor.
No girl in her bedroom, just a note on the door.
No more phony smile, no more wiping tears.
No more laying awake caught up by her fears.

No more fighting with her, no messages of hate.
No reason to run away from her, or be afraid.
No more girl walking round so sad and forlorn.
Theres now nothing left but the blood on the floor.

No reason now not to b:tch, spread the rumors at will.
But she knew all along, it helped her take the pills.
Theres now nothing left but the blood on the floor.
No pain left to fill a heart that needed a little more.

A little more love. Maybe a friend or two extra.
A little bit of hope, someone to stand next to her.
A little bit of faith, more time to breathe.
A little more truth and a reason to believe.

Theres now nothing left but a cold lonely grave,
& a poem she wrote of a teen can't be saved.
Theres now nothing left but a dead empty room.
The curtains are drawn, in there her pain looms.

Theres now nothing left but the blood on the floor,
They just can't erase all that they saw.
Haunted in their dreams, by the screams they never heard.
And chased by the guilt that it wasn't suicide it was murder.