She sits on the toilet seat,
in her washroom crying.
Holding a razor so sharp,
It could tear her flesh,
Until it causes her veins,
To slowly drain,
the unbearable pain
That stains...
just as the blood would.....
leaving a puddle,
Symbolizing her troubles
That she could no longer try to struggle with.
So as she sits on the toilet,
Hoping to cut herself,
Just like the knives did
when her friends stabbed her in the back.
She antagonizes herself,
to instigate and encourage,
What she sees as courage
To end an existence,
she feels Is worthless.
So on purpose,
She Forces out the memories,
The memories of all the love she gave.....
Never returned.
All the family who's backs turned,
All the people she loved,
Now lost, left in an urn.
She thinks of all the attention
She got from being fat,
And all the attention she did not get
because of that.
She thinks of all the times,
she was left to pick up the pieces
of her broken heart.
She thinks of all the lonely nights
She cried herself to sleep.
All the faded dreams
The insecurities that scream,
And the empty, broken promises.
She thinks of all the debt,
Being broke,
working a dead end job,
She busts her *** at,
For a boss who constantly
degrades her.
Just so her parents can give her
a look of disappointment,
at every Holiday,
And family gathering,
That speaks in silence saying:
"Why did you drop out of college"
"Why can't you be more like your sister"
She thinks of all her friends,
Who got married,
and had kids,
And how she now stopped wondering
why no one loves her....
Because.....
How could they?
So she accepts,
What she feels, as true.
Feeling like she has nothing to offer.
Feeling like a constant failure who's
Only progression,
she stands possessing
Is waking up and not feeling the depression...
So she cuts,
Now Bleeding,
Frustrated with herself,
knowing it isn't deep enough.
Only to leave a scar,
Just like the other countless attempts that failed in the past,
When she sat,
on her toilet Wanting to die....
Til all that crosses her mind,
is the nauseating,
annoying, question:
"Can't I do anything right?"....
...all she wants is for the pain to stop.
All she wants,
Is to be free of the panic attacks.
Free of feeling like a burden
to those around her.
Free of the perpetual
pessimistic thoughts,
that now plague her,
As hopes of the manifestation
Of happiness,
Are gone,
and have only left her bitter.
So as she cuts again,
using more force,
She prays to a god
she no longer Believes in,
For the strength,
to be weak enough...
to end it...
Still crying,
And still denying,
That anything but dying
Will ever bring her
a piece of peace....