I stare at the girl in the photograph
I remember her smile, I remember her laugh
the way her eyes lit up when
he walked through the door
the way she would talk
till her cheeks got sore
How she would never shed a single tear
and spiders were her only fear
the nights she lived for with her friends
and the wonderful life she prayed would never end.

it makes me sad, remembering how she was
and how in the course of six years, that girl was lost.
now she's burned every picture she's had of him
and only talks about how life has been
now every night, she cries herself to sleep
a sorrow filled, heartbreaking, little weep
and she longs for death, instead of life
sleeping with a blood stained knife
her friends are gone-they've all moved on
her family to distant to see her pain, or the tears that fall like rain.

everyday she'll fake a laugh and a smile
and say's she's okay, joking all the while
but deep inside, she's already dead
and once she get's home, the sheets will be stained with red.