The wind blows the Wild grass
The branches on trees sway outside
But not a single soul is aware
Of the girl in her room that midnight
She is shameful and worthless
Her cheeks are moist and damp
What is a girl to do
When her family’s gone mad
She cradles herself in the corner
Lets down her dark black hair
The darkness prevails in the silence
Yet not a single soul is aware
She starts to tremble now
Nobody understands
She hopes to find some comfort
In the sharp weapon in her hands
The girl is hesitant and weary
But does not change her mind
She sobs a little harder
And the blood her pocketknife finds
At a long hour’s pass
Lying at the floor of her bed
The girl is unrecognizable
Her wrists and thighs are red
Locked up in her room nobody knows
The girl in red is fast alone
Yet all the while
The wind blows the Wild grass
