She's just an echo, not even a memory
Less than a memory, much less than a person
How sad is it that she yearns to be what she can never be,
And that what she can never be is peaceful bone and ash, six feet under ground?
She has seen too much, has done so little,
And has been here for so long.
In this lie that isn't living (no it isn't,
It's just pain, and tears and scary yellow eyes)
She hides - has she ever done anything but?-
Behind thick glass lenses, old pretences and painful screams.
Oh, how she moans and cries in the dark!
How she asks (begs )for help/company/someone!
Don't you know, that the only reason she complains so,
Is in the hope (forgotten hope, silly hope)
That someone will listen and awake her from this nightmare?
But she never awakes.
She will never awake.
She's too scared to awake,
Aren't you, you ugly little girl?
Too scared of the big bad Grimm Reaper
When he came, you fought
But never begged
(There's more to you than anyone knows, it's a pity no one cares).
You wretched little girl,
You who turned your back to Death
For fear of what you would find in Asphodel
Don't you wish now you had gone with him?
If the Reaper came back to your dripping stall
Wouldn't you smile and laugh and willingly come with him?
No, you wouldn't, would you? You coward, you foolish, scared ghost girl
Little ugly bookworm, with ugly glasses, ugly braces, ugly soul
This is your fate – you've chosen it
Your ugly greywethaunted fate
In her Kingdom-Bathroom Over-death Under-life,
There's an lonely little ghost girl
Between moans and pipes and despair
There's an ugly little ghost girl
Her name is Myrtle