All the strength
         I had left
You stole
         to make me weak.
All the light
         I had to give
has turned too
        d a r k n e s s.
The silence is a
         resounding chorus
to the pain
         no one can see
and I suppose
         I was just a casualty
in your war.
       He called me a
sweet  g  i  r  l
       but that's a vile
thing to be.
       I was Mary once,
a  v i r g i n
       until he came and
***** me
        but even lambs
are slaughtered
        everyday
from the outside, inward
          blood always.
there is no...  i n n o c e n c e
                        left anymore.