The goth doesnt know what she wants anymore

her head deep in thought as she falls to the floor

spinning in circles her torment is clear

the blackness is back and wont dissappear

time is a healer or so they all say

but here in her head the ghosts are at play

tearing her insides and shredding her soul

breaking her being death becoming her goal

will she be missed probably not

no grave with a headstone just left there to rot

neither alive nor permantly dead shes left to wander

the path in her head.