( It's just the surface... )

What is it... that makes you itch
In your heart, in your wounds...
Don't get infected...
These are just tears
Dried out, leaving traces all over her face...
Migraine... piercing through my head
Death don't seem painful no more
Now that i'm dead within.

Yet, this is just the surface...
Ugliness to disguise the
Pain twisting inside,
Heart and soul collide.

A dark clover,
Impatience,
watch her fall... crawl
Listen to her cry, every night
Enjoyed every moment of her being dead,
Alive.

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