When you look on your past, you ask yourself why?
Why, is that the question, or just a destraction?
When you remember bits and pieces,
Your happiness decreases.
When you wake up in a cold sweat in the dead of the night,
You relize that you just had a fearful fright.
Fighting for your rights,
You were a rebel.
Mummbling in your sleep,
"I didn't mean to do it, I swear!" you say to the parents,
Of the little girl who got in your way.
"It's high school, we're supposed to rebel." You thought you were right.
This little girl is now your reaper.
She is your keeper,
Dead in the night,
She knows whats right.
She knows what will come,
She knows what was done.
She looks with empty gaze,
Never having her right amount of days.
Her black hair is now a blaze,
Carrying her little music box,
You dream of falling into rocks,
Your life is full of tocks,
Ticks are gone,
Your life was numbered when she lost hers.