Phoenix Of Misery

She's been broken,

A little torn,

She's bled at his shoes, dripping soul,

She's been a mosaic of all she's loved,

Every shard of her being reflecting her trapped soul,

She's romanticized her ruin, her pain,

She's built graveyards, to bury her sins, for who would love her, if they knew her?

Who would look beyond the haze of beauty to see her darkness,

And those who did peek beneath the curtain only revisited her to slice their veins against her blade,

To watch as they dripped their pain into her cracks, to watch the poison slither and settle against her soul, to mingle with her darkness, to become one.

To eventually envelope the sadists, the masochists, to pull them in.

Broken attract broken after all. Phoenix of misery

What hope does she have? 

The phoenix of misery, from the ashes of happiness she's risen, and forever will rise...