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