If you opened her chest,
What would you see?
A heart that is broken and ready to bleed.
She sits in her room,
Feeling betrayal and despair,
As her tears trace her messy black hair.
The days go by,
And no one cares,
About the shattered girl,
With the wet black hair.
She has refused to speak for a while,
And when asked what’s wrong?
She gives a fake smile,
Through the hair, tears have grown long.
If one night she died,
Would anyone be there,
At the funeral of the shattered girl
With the long b…
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Posted on July 5, 2009 at 6:05pm —