Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all.

The Wrong Sense

I wait in the night,

For you to return,

A bird on the edge,

Only for you I yearn.

My eyes are damp,

My throat oh so sore,

I've wasted away,

I can't do this anymore.

Tragedy is at hand,

I try to go on,

But failure is for sure,

It seems you have won.

My face is dark,

My hair cut short,

These rusty scissors,

I hold onto for support.

Searching for you,

I'm so afraid,

To wither away,

I've been betrayed.

A promise not kept,

You say for the best,

I now know better,

In a state of depressed.

Do I look okay?

My eyes dark and red,

I've grown so thin,

I'm sure I look dead.

Is this what you want?

Me shriveled and scared?

I was so confused,

I almost swore you cared.

I look just like you now,

My inhuman air,

Only in the wrong sense,

It's too late for repair.

Hit or miss? Let me know in the form of review. -Dal

p.s. i know she didn't really cut her hair.