Onward she walked her face bleak as stone.
She uttered no words, her faint breathing had a lonely tone.
Her soul still thrived yet tattered and torn.
Her wrist dripped blood from the scratch of a thorn.
Then she awakened only to find.
T'was all but a dream played out in her mind.
Through her day she went with a fake smile.
Every footstep she took felt like a mile.
She falsely laughed with "dear friends" having the time of her life.
But when she got home, she searched for a knife.
She found it, a pencil and paper too.
Her letter began, "Dear mom and dad I love you".
Next she wrote out her funeral plan.
There she sat crying, blade in hand.
She signed it with "kisses" after her name.
Made sure to tell everyone "you're not to blame".
Upstairs she climbed her heart full of grief.
She hoped she could make it painless and brief.
Pills she dug out, one hundred seven.
She prayed to the Lord "please let me in heaven".
Each pill she swallowed without regret.
She slit her wrist deep and she was set.
She walked in her room and lay on the bed.
Later that day they found her there, dead.
She never expected anyone to cry.
But once word was spread, not one eye was dry.
More people cared than she eve Read more »