watching hours pass, the future she dreads, her to herself she acquaints
days and days these ponderings last, humming in her head, however faint
she's got places to go and wonders to see, she's young, and her veins dance
but they don't know that she still bleeds, her songs unsung, mind in a trance
ghosts whisper through her fingers, drip through her blood, and wander around
on her skin their touch long lingers, beware of their flood, hear its sound
she's lonely as hell, with the lullaby of silence, cradling her soul in her hands
a cold empty shell, fraught with internal violence, herself she fails to understand
