When I was young I was told a story,
A story that was for the glory.
A short story that made my heart beat end,
a story that I shall lend;
It's about a girl,
a girl stuck in another world.
Running away from the dread,
She ended it with a shot through the head.
All was silent,
All was still,
on her grave atop of the hill.
No color lay there but a bloody rose
sat upon her tin coat.
"the end" said my mama
and she cried tears of dismay,
for though she never told me
the girl had been her best friend.
And when she left the earth, indeed
she left a trail of sadness and grief.
A life took at a young age,
I never understood such pain.
But the end to her game.
The end , so true.
In so many ways.
That was her end.
Now is it mine?
When will it end?
The end.
The end.