Insurrection upon closer inspection she craved a deeper recollection of life.
She carved up her wrists and so she insisted it helped the pain so she'd knife.
When the nights became longer, during the days she'd ponder her strife's.
Until the day that she'd cried, out to her parents she'd lied: Why didn't you see it. You can not be it! The monster that's killed me inside.
It's simply not meant to be.