Mind mere image

Look in the mirror and what do I see,
A girl with black tattered wings.

Her gray eyes meet mine,
But she is dead like the sands of time.

Her pale bruised skin;
With no pulse,
Shakes with pain,
taking a deep breath and walking into the flame.

Waiting in silence for death to come,
the flames dance impatiently for the sun.

Silence is our greatest cry,
As we wish to die.