poemness
To Whom It May Concern:
Was she breathing with nothing to live for?
A void in life, everything was missing
The subject just laid there
Breathless, fatal, off colored and so peacefully
Her eye lids still open
Her body placed as if she was willing to go
no struggle was know
Abrasions were found on her wrists
Panicky eyes stare
While every gashed, wound noticeable to thee
why was this massacre more like a martyr?
was there even a sacrifice?
What more to the object is there?
Her heart, absent
Her soul, freed
Her life, now rested
What are your intensions with this lost?
Does it even matter to you?
Was it more then just too good to be true?
or do you cry, are you sadden?
If so let me know, as she left without a note
without one final farewell
was she breathing with nothing to live for?
A void in life, and everything was missing!
Was she breathing with nothing to live for?
A void in life, everything was missing
The subject just laid there
Breathless, fatal, off colored and so peacefully
Her eye lids still open
Her body placed as if she was willing to go
no struggle was know
Abrasions were found on her wrists
Panicky eyes stare
While every gashed, wound noticeable to thee
why was this massacre more like a martyr?
was there even a sacrifice?
What more to the object is there?
Her heart, absent
Her soul, freed
Her life, now rested
What are your intensions with this lost?
Does it even matter to you?
Was it more then just too good to be true?
or do you cry, are you sadden?
If so let me know, as she left without a note
without one final farewell
was she breathing with nothing to live for?
A void in life, and everything was missing!