There it was; as they said it would be, bleeding through the virgin stitches which were its only ties to life –as we perceive life to be-
They stood staring as so many did before them, bewildered, mystified by the profound mass hanging delicately before their eyes. 
Many tried to justify is ungodly beauty, many tried to understand is morbid attraction, but, not one of them had a conscious mind that allowed them to understand this crumpled masses beauty. 
To me it was so much more than an unknown beauty, it was a truth, a truth too painful to understand, a truth so painstakingly destructive it was discarded; decided unneeded by society. 
Now it hung in the minds of our generation. 
Attempting to release its purpose upon our lives, instead we stare –our eyes half shut- We make it beautiful, try to understand its mystery. 
Not even for a second do we think to let it fade away, we do not realize the years of neglect have left scars to corrupt it, to infect it
–We don’t care-
We pick and we prod at this mystery. Slowly bleeding it dry. 
We take it for granted. 
As we gape with our mouths wide open and our eyes closed; it sways in the wind attempting to share with us its truth, its knowledge, its only purpose for existence. 
But the truth can not reach our distance minds. It will die after spending its life quivering

It was a lie that she knew too well
It was like the snow covering the ground as it fell.
It was the stability to her high wire of a life
It was the pain after the endless hours of strife.
And yet, it was nothing more than blood stained fresh snow
Covering the act of murder, as well as the truth we are too fragile toknow