Its her blood on that bed

She can tell its way past midnight
From the cool breeze sweeping the stars from the night sky
But she doesn't attempt to move
Her hands still hug her legs
Like the depression that sits on her heart
 Her forehead rested over the bend of her knees
The deluge of tears has dried
But the wounds are still fresh though
Her countenance hangs low
She learnt not to lift it
Or her voice, or her hopes
So she can't see the moon
As it weaps for her
It's shape like a smile
It's shine beckoning her to reciprocate
If she lifted her eyes she would see the night sky
She would learn, no matter what happens to her
She can never count the scars faster than she can count the stars
She would realise the world is bigger than her fears
That there must be a place for her somewhere in the void of the cosmos
But for now she sits against her bedroom wall
Afraid to walk back inside.  
She still can't get over her head
 That It's her blood on that bed.