almost ashamed of what she sees.

Hair dangling in her eyes and face.

Dark rings and black eye-liner,

find their way beneath her brown eyes.

Eyes that once told the story,

of a happy young girl.

Now they are bleak, like a stormy sea.

She casts her eyes down to the sink,

soft white porclain a sharp contrast to her skin.

Her black clothing and black make-up,

have never hid what is lying within her.

She is an angry, lost, terrified, young woman.

Brewing openly with pain and hatred.

Hatred that arose from being abandoned when she needed him the most.

Pain for everytime he hasn't cared.

For everytime they haven't listened to her, and told her she was lying.

But now she refuses to listen to them, and wishes they were all dead.

The voices in her head, create their own hollaring every day.

She hides behind depressing music,

and friends that constantly mistreat her.

She truly doesn't care anymore.

She has all she needs,

pencil, paper, mind, and emotions.

She has thought of suicide, but can never commit.

She has thought of running away from this awful place, but has no where to go.

She has tried to battle the shadows,

but they've pinned her falling in behind, and in front.

She has no where to turn.

She forces herself awake from her daydream.

Casts her eyes towards her depressive reflection.

And now the empty drip from behind her eyes.

They combine with her black make-up,

and create fake black tears.

Real with significance to her.

To her, these are stained on her pillow,

from constant nights of endless sobbing.

The color stained on her finger tips,

just so she could prove her rebellion.

Like the demons she constantly faces,

as they lurk in the shadows of her past.

Like the storm clouds waiting for her,

at every thought of turning it all around.

Like the cold, empty, lonesome, stone

that her heart has become...