SHE PAiNTS A PRETTY PiCTURE, BUT THERE'S A TWiST.

HER PAiNT-BRUSH iS A RAZOR. HER CANVAS ;; HER WRiST.

She smiles with all she has left yet her tears are left undried, though she has so much to say she bottles it up inside. If you look past her broken eyes to a shadow no one sees, a disguise so you won't recognize... that girl is really me...

She's perfect
from her smile to her kiss
from her tears to the scars
on her perfect little wrists...

You could stare deep into her eyes
and not even realize she's dying inside

(c) Lucy

She straightens her hair.. applies her make-up..
smoothes out her clothes, & takes one last look
in the mirror. Just to see what a failure she is.

Im Independent
No one to depend on
Im Free
With Restrictions
Im Lively
Without Anything to Do
Im Friendly
Without any Friends
Im Holy
in Church
Im Surrounded By People
Yet Im Alone

~my world's so simple, so easy to see~
~*~depleated of any colors, all but three~*~
~*~one sheds blood, the other proves rite~*~
{the last is the pain; crimson, black and white~}

~*~CROW~*~

She collapsed onto her bed and buried her tear stained face into her pillow. Then, as night bathed her in darkness, she whispered, “God? I have a favor to ask you. Please, don’t make me wake up in the morning.”

There's a time and a place for everything.
There's a reason why certain people meet.
There's a destination for everyone.
What's the explination, when were done?

Just Because Your Breathing, Doesn't Mean Your Alive...