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It sticks to my mouth like the grit in my hair

His words cut me like a knife sharper than any I’ve ever held before

The look on his face still dances in my view

A short mute uttering on my part does make his laughter grow anew

The façade is now withering away

I see no more…

Don’t look at that thing…you might catch something… she’s nothing quite interesting to look at anyways, why waste your time with something despised.



She is beaten, she is the damned, that girl you see is the unholy.

She is tortured, she is a disgrace, that girl you see is a monster.

She has self dignity under a mask, a mask that is hidden, a mask that is broken, that girl you see is not a self righteous girl, and she’s a whore with a frog on her tongue…

She is not associated with anything, other than being with the dirt the dirt on the ground, that girl that you see is mocked with out any self repose



You know you should feel sorry for that Girl ‘cause she’s as pretty as a Rose…

A broken Heart is hard to heal. But a shattered one is even harder to find in order to mend. But how do you mend a heart that seems to be broken for so long and looks to be frozen in place where it so long ago was broken, and left to wither and faint.