Oh dear, oh dear, she's trapped in the walls
The sound of her madness calls
The tears in her eyes shine like blood
And the ropes around her wrist
Cut deep like mist
She disappears when you ask
But never fails to come running back
Bang, banging on the door
She's a ghost
Who doesn't want to haunt anymore
YOU ARE READING
Tea for Teardrops
PoetryMadness is where the teardrops are. And tea is where the madness is.
