This is the story of the sad little girl
The one no one rescued, the one no one loved
Her long worn mask, lays undone next to her delicate hand
Her tear-stained face finally revealed, unaged by the sands of time
The echoes of past-pain scream loudly through the room
She lies upon a bed of white silk,
Her black hair spread about her face, a dark halo
Her arms relaxed, her hands unclenched
The crimson puddle grows like wings unfolding
Her face is clear, she no longer remains
A morbidly beautiful sight
This is the tale of the lonely lost soul
the one no one knows,
she, a creature so mythical, pure fantacy, existed
A perfect doll of unfulfilled dreams lies broken irrepairably
Forgive us, we were not to know
Our hearts beat while hers grows cold
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