Waiting in the silence
for the breath of cold wind
for the touch of warm hands
for the whisper of the trees

Waiting for the noise
the chirping of the birds
the croaking of the frogs
the sound of the disturbed

beauty turned sour
a hand that holds a knife
as the warm blood drips down and down
you could have saved my life

You once said I was horrid
a person with no style
too fat, too rude
but now look at me

Am I pretty now?
All skin and bones
my face covered in red, hot blood
as it drips down my ashen face

Amm I pretty now?
With styled hair
with fake nails
and make-up on

Am I pretty now
wasting away
I just wanted you to say
I was pretty