By Kris   

Eyes deny false highs they remain bone dry,
Her new outcry a reply to run by,
An Artist in her eyes heartless no lies,
Her veins dry she only wants to say goodbye,
Voice unheard much like a bird in a cage,
Filled with rage towards a world turned away,
Killed by wordless pain untold fell in mud,
Hands covered in her own blood lain in mud,
Lands not tread now dead asleep in her head.

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