Falling, watching me fall,

You watched me call,

Scream for help in the dark,

You have made your mark,

On my life, my heart of black,

Why do you keep me back?

My life is cold, cruel,

And my blood will not pool,

Onto the feet of a witch,

Who never cared a stich,

A mother that used a son,

Just used him for her own fun.

What I see, what I want to see,

It can not be,

The bad things I have thought of doing,

To the friends that have been undoing,

The life she made for me, for herself,

When it should be for myself.

Blood of black takes away,

The sanity I wish would stay,

A mother so cold,

Takes a firm hold,

On a spirit plagued with doubt,

Though I wish I could shout...

~Chrona