Crimson tears poured from her wrists,
Her body lifeless,
Her world a mist, swept under by waves of hurt and pain.
Struggling for breath, but never again.
The words, the rumours tore her apart.
Scars cut through, right from her heart, her skin a mess, but her soul alive wishing, praying not to die but over this she had no control.
Her strength is dying, growing old
the light is fading, her angel gone
her death is near but the reason wrong.
Don't try to help me, just let me die.
Let me drown in my sorrows, the tears I cry.
What she is saying, will never make sense until you have been through her pain so intense the memories held within do nothing but hurt.
A life without meaning drops blood on her shirt the reason of nothing, the truth held within her body not soul trapped inside a coffin her reasons, her pain, her stories live on.
Trying and striving, her memory lives strong, she's trying to tell you, her body can't speak
for now she is dead, she is helping the weak her angel still there, always by her side, watching above on her body and mind.
The angel within they call it her soul.
The angel that helps all her stories unfold.
A lesson to others that strength is within.
The bullies are weak, do not let them win.
