Too much seen through cloudy eyes,
Of which I should never myself see...

Another teenage girl spends
her time locked in her room...

The ocean tides rise and fall with
the rhythm of the drumming Earth...

Seven year old Amy tucked
strands of blonde hair by her ears...

Blanket of twinkling guiding lights
envelope me from the coldness...

Bleeding rose weathered by the storm,
internal battle picking the petals...

Tile floor?
There was a tile floor that evening...

With the grace of the lone white dove flying...
Hands folded, with gentle care, material between...

Does Justice exist?
Streaming tears wet my face beneath red rimmed...

Paint me something, my artist,
As I need to see your words...

Forsaken spirit clothed in night,
Displayed against unwritten stars...

This is the second part to Sweet Amy Was Told...
Golden blonde hair pulled into a tight bun...