No remorse for the dead flower,
Feeling placed in a waste basket.
Full of wet tissues and chocolate wrappers,
The head dangles in between a gap.
No Tylenol or Advil could kill what’s in her head,
The heart is crippled but, God is her crutch.
Instead of rebuilding, she remains shun,
Her reflection never walked away ,but no matter where she looked she couldn’t find the girl she use to be.
Don’t turn your back on yourself,
Walk the lands until they become vacant.
See the truth,
Her name is Faith.