The lonely Grey winter skies
match the cold that rest in her heart
everyday a part of her dies
unable to bring back whats fallen apart
painting pictures with steel brushes
carving flowers in her mind
the river flows to heal the wounds
bloody branches intertwined
maybe this will lead her home
maybe it will lead to sorrow
but all she knows is that the trees
will lead her closer to tomorrow
she lives to bleed another day
to purge the sadness out of her heart
to bleed for sorrow
to bleed for sickness
to bleed until she falls apart
the silver dreams that flood her vision
crimson rivers uncontained
living life is not so much
about the joy but of the pain
the warming touch of human love
has not yet touched her heart
she longs to feel sunlight on her face
but no ones there to fade the dark
this girl, she cries a long-dead plea
of sadness laced with doubt
she knows with silent uncertainty
why she is with no way out
somehow alone in this hell of a place
her sorrow no one understands
her hair falls in curtains around her face
in salty, wet, teary strands
fallen comrades
friends no more
now death is knocking
at her door!
