She declared war upon herself in the midst of her savage self-hatred
Cutting her skin and suffocating her throat till she begged for air’s price.
She was once was a child afraid of just touching any sharp blade
Encase it accidentally cuts her and now: She doesn’t think twice

before picking up that blade and shoveling it into her skin like a smith.
She baked lies on her forgotten suicide note. Lies that disguised
themselves in coats of truth. She strangled her own chest with
ropes of words she didn't utter and blocked new hope from unsupervised

entering into her dejected lungs that begged for life's meaning not reprimands.
But she found no purpose to keep her garden living so she therefore
poisoned every plant and washed any seeds of life left in her sunless lands
down the drain until she fell into an everlasting sleep. Her wish for

peace had come to her but others wept on the loss of a friend, student, daughter, and one less hazed
family member. They never believed her when she said she wanted to commit suicide anyways.