A heart that's stopped beating,
A broken hourglass,
Memories of a life once lived,
and torn out pages of an unfinished book,
All lay helplessly on the floor.

Broken glass shimmers on the ground.
The pillows are stained with mascara tears,
and if you listen closely,
you can still hear the sobs that caused them.

A draft that always flows through the broken windows,
has long since blown out the flames of the candles,
and the chill is almost unbearable.

The shadow of the broken girl
still wonders the broken halls,
Eternally searching,
For the one thing she'll never find again.