• Two people hide my pain.
    A gentle mask, a thin mask.
    Raw feelings lay behind it.
    A gentle mask of a butterfly.

    Hair, the color of moonlit straw.
    Skin, pale, forever drained of it’s original color.
    Eyes, as hard and as cold, as ice,
    Forever hiding the pain of her existence.

    Her dress billowing around her,
    As the world continues to move.
    Black as the other side of the moon.
    The red under layers, once white.

    She grasps at her sides,
    Falling apart at the seams.
    The pain for her is just too great.
    She wishes she could fade into the darkness.

    No one cares for her existence.
    She is alone,
    Always, and always, alone.
    The few who care never stay.
    They leave her to her sorrow, her loneliness.
    Because she is the girl,
    in the Black Reaper Dress.