The Morning Girl

See that girl
She's only 13
Her wrists have swollen
With true morning
Her eyes have darken
With a loss
Of a girl
whom seemed so happy
She let their words
get her worst
Name and sounds
lead to her burst
She took the balde
to free the demons
from her wrist
they seemed to glee
but as soon as the battle wounds heal
The pain arises then is still
I can not help but to cry
Knowing that this girl might die
I know her feelings
they are with me
Because this girl
in such morning
Is morning the loss
of the other me.