The Stain

The Stain
By: Twisted Heart

The crimson flow
from the lifeless song
that lay dead upon the floor.
No hope was left
inside this shell
where once the blood was stored.
It dipped it's head
in pain's caress
with hungry hands it pried.
Up from the depths
of hell's own breath
To feast on her insides.
Distant thoughts
of insanity's rot
Have consumed her desire
And left her broken
her words unspoken
to burn in Hell's own fire.
A crimson stain is all
that can be recalled
by those who swore they knew
The girl who dwelled
In living hell
What ever else was she to do.
With gun in hand
She takes her stance
Then she feels the shot
Now just a stain
Is what remains
Of what her heartache brought.