she lays there motionless in the woods
the vines cover her body
the dirt makes itself at home under her fingers.

god knows what's on her mind
she's feeling high, even though her heart no longer has a beat
they kicked her black and blue
the words they threw, sharp and poisonous
pierced her flesh until she could take no more.

though she wasn't emotionally connected
she thought she could make an exception
she let them in one by one
to only be loved by none.

go to her resting place, where she is free at last
you can hear the spine chilling and demonic laughs
she sings in a raspy voice
to never love a boy, for he will treat you like a toy
to never make a friend, for she will stab you in the end.

Never trust the mundane.
They are the lowest forms of art, reeling you in until you fall apart.

-Odell Rae