When I was younger still
I knew a girl with a hollow stare
Her hair was black and her skin fair
And she walked as if with a broken will

I knew her well
At least I thought I did
But I was still yet a little kid
I never knew what stories her tears could tell
At night, when they fell

We played sometimes
Our little games, were many
Our imaginations knew little limits, if any

She said, "how fleeting are the pleasures
that are disguised to bring you pain.
How little is held of the memories we gain"

At night when we were called inside
Her little grip grew stronger
I always thought she had decided
To play a little longer

I never knew
Her laughter few
Her breath haggard
Her stumbles staggered
Her blood spewed
I never knew