Little girl, I paint your words.
Your skin is torn like paper, spattered
With blood, your tears like acid,
Your hair is a spiderweb
That everyone touches and everyone breaks.
Secrets crawl around your arms and
People whisper about your hands that hold their secrets.
Your skin itches but you can't scratch for fear
Of ripping it off like scales.

Your paper is a well,
Your mind is a screaming piano,
Your eyes are bleeding words,
Your voice is a ceramic diamond,
You are a ghost.

The secrets keep you walking the earth
Like your legs never let you stop walking
And your blood lets you keep writing,
Even if you are but a faded child.