Inside of you is a broken soul

You smile for everyone, but you hurt alone.

Every day you drown yourself in the misery that chains you to your past.

But now its time for you to breakthrough, cause you've suffered enough.

So lay down your bones with me,

Give me your hurt, lessen your burden,

I'll help you heal.

So just lay down with me,

I'll hold you and chase all your demons away.

I know you dont believe in love anymore,

I know you think that the world's a cruel place

And I know you're scared

But just try to put your trust in me,

I'll be there for you all along the way.

I'll be your shield, won't let you get hurt again.

I'll be the sculptor and mould your shell back into human.

Just lay down your bones with me,

And let go of your pain.

You've been through enough,

And now its time for you to breathe again.

She made murals from the red flowing off her hands.
Every splatter a deeper shade.
Her cadaver looked like an old relic, adorned with cuts and scratches, weathered from years of savagery.
Every scrape on her hide created a deeper gouge in her diminishing heart.
She etched her pain deep into the walls, just like the nightmares in her conscious.
She relived her pains every night, calling out for mercy, as if she was the sinner.
But oh she wasn't, because she was the sin.
They called her 'The Lady in Red', she was anything but.
Outside she wore a mask of sinful allure but her insides were ashes and her soul drowned in black.
 
Every splatter she made with her ichor, she wished for cessation, for her pain to end.
 
But, alas, she had to do it herself.
 
She stepped into the grave, face burning with salty trails, her throShe made murals from the red flowing off her hands.
Every splatter a deeper shade.

Her cadaver looked like an old relic, adorned with cuts and scratches, weathered from years of savagery.

Every scrape on her hide created a deeper gouge in her diminishing heart.

She etched her pain deep into the walls, just like the nightmares in her conscious.

She relived her pains every night, calling out for mercy, as if she was the sinner.

But oh she wasn't, because she was the sin.

They called her 'The Lady in Red', she was anything but.

Outside she wore a mask of sinful allure but her insides were ashes and her soul drowned in black.

Every splatter she made with her ichor, she wished for cessation, for her pain to end.

But, alas, she had to do it herself.

She stepped into the grave, face burning with salty trails, her throat acidic with the words she never said.