She screams...
Honestly expressing her hidden pains,
Beneath the pale moonlit skin of hers,
Trembling were the thoughts of suffering...
Beware child,
For the flowers that you pluck emits a sensual smell,
Laced with fear,
Lingering around the hazardous tips of emotional warmth...
The dreaded tears,
The soft heartbreaking whispers,
The layers of sweet embedded lies,
The pain continues...
Suicide is what she screams of daily,
It's also what she screams silently,
Death seems almost relevant,
The perfect conclusion to this misserable event.
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