With Silver She Draws

With silver, she drew, 

And red she painted. 

The linings of her, 

Were the markings of her belonging.

With every ounce, 

She hates herself. 

But is she the one,

Who is to

Be blamed? 

For it's not her fault,

That she was a kid. 

For it's not her fault, 

That she was innocent. 

It's his fault though

That she isn't innocent anymore, 

It's his fault though 

She doesn't trust anymore. 

Her dreams were crumpled, 

Because of him. 

She can't fly anymore, 

Because of him. 

To numb her pain

She has nowhere to go.

So with silver, she draws,

And red she paints.