What Does It Mean?

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She wore a red dress in the spring.

She wore a black dress in the summer.

She wore a white dress in the fall.

And in winter she would wear nothing at all.

She handled the abuse with ease in her youth.

But the older she had gotten the more she had gotten the truth.

All along she thought everything was fine.

All along things were quiet and sublime.

But in a sudden uproar in rage,

she went tumbling into a depressional cage. 

No one tried to help her out.

She just sat there, constantly in self doubt.

She no longer wore her pretty dresses.

She would just sit there, still cleaning up all of their messes.

She gave her life for those who hated her.

She gave her life to everyone, her own emotions a blur.

No one ever gave her a second chance,

no one would ever take a stance.

Soon the pain was too much to bare.

She couldn't give up, though everything was starting to tear.

She grabbed the knife and used it to calm herself.

Taking her own emotions and often putting them on a shelf.

She bled out for the ones she cared about.

The ones she cared about didn't even thank her, a compliment drought.

She carved a smile into her face.

Those bad feelings the knife would chase.

Everyone has left her behind and they don't know.

What goes on under her sleeves below.

There sits welts and burns,

cuts and slices as she yearns.

For one day, one person to thank her.

But until then, her emotions will forever stir.

She wore a red dress in spring.

She wore a black dress in summer.

She wore a white dress in fall.

And in winter, her body laid sprawl.