In the tiny box buried deep, forgotten

Lays an abused and trampled girl

Curled upon her shattered heart

That lie no larger then a pearl

 

Only a burden, a sentient piece of trash

With dried cheeks streaked with pure salt

Dreaming of the warmth of being cherished

And never put at unreasonable fault

 

She merely wishes to be noticed

Craving to gain that vibrant gift of love

To bask within true feelings of compassion

That have since been left to rot and disposed of

 

In that tiny box that’s now hidden from the world

Is the damaged parts of a morbid girl

Broken beyond that of repair

With freedom’s wings that can never unfurl

 

Buried deep lies what she has cast off

For the cruelty of her existence weeps

A home in which to call her own, 

Lay only in scarlet bled dreams