The Blood Is On The Walls
The writing is on the wall.
Maybe it's always been there,
but you don't remember it.
The paint looks fresh after all.
But something tells you it's not paint.
It's blood.
She's trying to tell you,
trying to make you see.
And if the only way she can do it is to paint it on the walls in her own blood,
she will.
After all,
no one noticed when she typed it there.
Others are starting to notice how cut up she is,
but no one makes the connection to the wall.
They act as if it was always there.
They act as if nothing has changed.
And suddenly you realize that if you don't save her,
no one will.
But it's going to take more than bandages and sleeping pills.
It's going to take getting her to admit what she's seen.
It won't make sense until she does.
It'll take that to keep her from adding a noose to that wall.
