Dead roses sit in the corner
of a long-forgotten room.
Memories of old
are scattered in the dust
that covers the floor.
The silent,
unmoving body of a girl
lies dead in the corner,
the skin is worn away
revealing a skeleton
covered in the long-dried blood
only a lifetime of pain
could cause.
What happened to cause
the feeling of suffering
that permeates this room?
A piece of paper
is clutched in a skeletal hand.
"I hate you.
I never loved you.
I wish you would die."
It seems the words once written
have come to pass.
The broken glass in the window
is the very image of what once was
this poor girls' heart.
But no one will ever know.
For all of this lies
in a long-forgotten room.
AND I THOUGHT I WAS CATCHING UP! oh well i loved this one when i read it the other day. there are always times when i feel like i shold just never get out of my bed and the girl in the story seems to have taken my intentions to the next level. ::wipes forehead:: at least it wasn't me you were writing about there I'd be petrified jk. anyway your poems kick ass and keep up the good work even if i dont ever catch up in number