She sits alone,stroking her warm hair
her nails are as black as the lining of her eyes
Her soul transcends into the only way she can manage to speak,
through the stroke of a pen against paper
The world sees her as through a broken ray of light
while she sees herself as a reason to cover up the sun
People are so cruel to her, they can't begin to understand
that she shines in her darkness, and her torments shines so bright
So she looks out over the crimson water lifting her head
from her speech for only a short while she questions
weither or not to try to make them understand, then she looks
back down because they aren't even looking at her to begin with.
