She sits in the background.

Sad and alone.

Broken again.

Cracked to the bone.

Tossed like spare change.

A target in a shooting range.

Consumed by rage.

She grows in age.

Tired of cutting.

Tired of crying tear by tear.

They say they listen but they never hear.

They say they'll be there.

Year by year.

They get close.

But they're never near.

Things keep changing.

The love in her throat brings her to tears.

Another boy, that's what they say.

The words are just too cliché.

The hopeless lies.

The promises they made.

She goes to her room.

Sharpens the blade.

She cries about a boy she will never have.

The thought of his lover made her mad.

Sitting in the background.

So alone.

She gets high.

Turns to being stoned.

She slowly fades.

Turning to gray.

Even though she is not dead.

She starts to decay.