Poezja

she sits there quietly, silently, all her emotions hushed up locked up tight
afraid of the world afraid to fight fearing for her life she turns to her knife
the pain is her reliease the pain makes her feel compleat numbing her from the cold hard truth
she feels alon feels afraid feels every thing and nothing but pain
his words run through her head: good for nothing whore, born a slut and nothing more
she wished she was dead.
 
if only she knew that someone cared if only she knew that you or i was there then maybe she would be here still to day not alone and not in pain.....