What happened to,
"Instead I sit here,
Blushing bright red,
Letting sweet words,
Rush to my head"?
It dried.
It twisted and died,
And fell from the sky.
There are no sweet words,
When he can't meet your eyes,
And if he does,
You think you may cry,
Or throw up,
Or faint,
Because you're pushed to the brink,
And can't stand to think,
Of that thing.
The one who ruins 16 year old girls,
With promises of marriage,
And happiness,
And love,
Yet does not deliver,
Just tortures,
And twists,
Your mind to fit his,
And slowly warps your soul to his will,
And oh so surely takes morals away,
From even the most convicted ones.
That is what happened to me,
I no longer sit here,
Blushing bright red,
Now I sit in the corner,
Holding my head,
And rocking,
And crying,
And gasping for breath.
That is what happened to blushing bright red,
That's why sweet words don't rush to my head.