You say she paints,
you say she draws,
but little do you know
that she paints pictures of the hell she has seen.
Whether you try or whether you don't, the promise of your little girl's
paradise has gone so swiftly.
You say she wakes up at 5 A.M.
But little did you know it was actually three,
because the demons wake her up
and her past haunts her constantly.
You say she reads,
but little did you know she reads for comfort,
for escape.
Because little did you that she did not love you,
but hate.
You say that she sings, but once you look past the tunes,
you'll see that she is dying slowly,
almost sweetly in a godless world.
But little did you know that she sang along to depressed symphonies
and her songs had weeping lyrics.
You say that you know her,
but in reality, you don't.
