The Regression

My little friend, she is weak.
Can't you see it in her eyes?
The life is draining out of her
She has no passion

Now, her words drip with ice, her body is stone
Her beauty, a writhered rose
A tear stained face and swollen knuckles
She swallows her tongue, a bottle this girl has become.

She's suffocating, it's either up or down,
Can't fin the middle ground, need a sanctuary
She needs to get out

Blisters and cuts,
A tremoundous pressure coming down
Emotions reaching a fever pitch, Can't come down
The scars are screaming, the metals whispering
Stuck inside.