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She stands by the window,
Looking out at the bright red blood puddle.
Her eyes were glassy,
And she was as pale as a ghost.
Soon bright red lights came,
People swarmed over the house,
collecting evidence.
But no one noticed the young girl,
That stood so still next to her moms head.
No one noticed the young girl,
That stood there with tears,
Streaming down her face.
No one noticed the young girl,
That rode with the doctors to the hospital.
For that young girl was dead,
a ghost, that watched her mom.
Watched her slowly deteroiate,
into nothing, because of her,
untimely death.
At least she will be united in the end, in heaven.
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