Sorrowful pain
None other
Than the kind caused by those who said
they loved her.
Our blood is red,
But she bleeds a different color.
Shades we can’t see,
Darkness our eyes can’t adjust too.
Thin layers of glass
Cover her
Cracked; yet to be broken
Glued; yet to be fixed
Bleeding black
Drinking red
Crying
But not dead
Sorrowful pain
None other
Than kind caused by those who promised
To protect her