As the fangs push deeper into your neck,
As you realize your life's been wrecked...

Alone in the darkness; surrounded by walls veiling...
So quiet and so cold; she sat there just crying...

It is true that I love to write.
In my head, light and dark fight...

Sweet sixteen; a lonely girl,
Unaware of what was to unfurl...

All of my dreams vanish into thin air,
Of all my friends only few seem to care...

I guess we just weren't meant to be,
I'm sure that's something we both see...

She is living in the next Jihad,
She was fallen when she turned on God...

As the needles push into my vein,
As hopes collapse and fall as rain...

I sit alone and begin to write,
Watching the day fade to night...

One of my poems i wrote in jail about an ex-lover...
I'll give you all you ever wanted...

Is it a crime to love to write?
Is it wrong to have a dark sight...

Sometimes I lie awake at night,
Heavy eyelids I do fight...