Uncertainty this great can tear down walls
If only you'd understand how I feel
Yet I don't stand a chance
Ain't got one chance against the tidal wave that is you
Pulling me down
Setting me free
Oh, how confusing these things can be
Dragging me down
Chains upon me
Oh, how confusing these things can be
Only what great uncertainly, 'cause
Uncertainty this great can tear down walls
If only you'd understand how I feel
Yet I don't stand a chance
Ain't got one chance against the tidal wave that is you
Pulling me up
Shoving me down
What oxymorons, all these things
Giving me wings
Not letting me fly
What oxymorons, all these things
Uncertainty this great can tear down walls
If only you'd understand how I feel
Yet I don't stand a chance
Ain't got one change, not one single chance, against the tidal wave that is you
She was overwhelmed. How could she, Ginny Weasley, produce something this good just thinking about Hermione? She knew she had wrote it, since it prefectly captured how she felt but... What did it mean... Then she took a closed look at the parchment. It was stained with blood. Whose blood? She couldn't remember. Why was everything getting funny, and why was she so tired? She didn't know. Then she remembered. Her wrists. She had cut them after writing this deciding dying was better than not unsterstanding. Now she knew she was wrong. Her uncertainty had, once again, bested her. After that thought she stopped thinking. Letting it all fade into the deep silence of the long awaited meloncholy blackness.
A/N: I wrote the poem myself, for those of you who might wonder. I just thought that it'd be sweet if Ginny was so confused about her feelings for Hermione that she opened her soul and let her anguish fill the paper; her words flowing from her pen like water. Then I dicided I should make it morbid. For the sake of... uhm.. suicide and all my friends who have tried to commit suicide and the sake of being morbid. Yeah. smirks R & R, please!