Disposable Paper Doll

Screaming in the silence,
A bruise to her own skin
She paints herself in violence
An artwork from within.

She bled out the whole room,
A crimson deadly flood
Of all the pain she consumed
She left her mark in blood.

And now she's just a story, that's closable
In a notebook of a soul.
But to everyone else she's disposable,
Just a ripped up paper doll.