Her name was Red.
She was a ghost,
Or a bad dream.
Her name was hell,
and more than most,
she made me cry.
She was afraid.
She was fear,
And she managed to destroy,
She was a friend
So dear to me,
I don't see her anymore.
She'd spread her legs,
Sh'ed bare her soul,
She'd bring oblivion.
No more dreams,
No more calls,
No more living, she is gone.
Her name was Red.
I made her up,
My sick brain is to blame.
Her name was Red,
And I grew up,
Without her it's just not the same.
I'm officially going ****** :) a product of my mental illness is the most interesting person I know, yet it seems they always are...