As the school bell rings. The bashing of lockers occurs.

She tries to linger in the shadows, her skinny frame skips the passages of light between lockers in order for her to make it through without torment.

Was it too much too ask?
Too much to ask that she go unnoticed?

The girls crowd around her, they point, they taunt.

It just fun they say, we were only trying to help her.

Help comes in many forms, but helping is not an act of pushing someone over the edge.

She gets home, her makeup ruined, it took her hours, what was the point? Nobody would buy 'that girl' flowers.

She makes her bed, she kisses her mother.

Goodbye she says. (Her mother thinks she's going out with the friends that don't exist).

The cold November air licks her graceful face as she wraps the noose around her neck; for her the stars have aligned, she'll have peace at mind.

It's over in less than a minute, she drops down, lifeless, her heart was still beating, but there was no life within her.

Her body dangles, "pin the tail on the angel". Springs to mind. Limp and fragile, her body swings, with each scrape of rope against cold tree bark, her favourite song becomes less and less apparent playing through her earphones.

The police are called to her school, the girls take back what they said.... It's too late girls "Harper is dead".

Her smile
Her eyes
Her hair
Her skin
Her smell

These were 5 reasons I got out of bed in the morning. 5 reasons i found meaning in this sick thing we call life.

The sharp pain, it penetrated my heart like a thick steel blade. This was the feeling of when i first set eyes on you.

We locked eyes, we smiled.
My heart skipped a beat.
I remember the dry crackling of my lips, the rupturing sound of my Adams apple sliding down my throat as i gulped.

Something about that girl, she was dangerous but sweet, she was my ******. And I was her ******.

I remember the first time;

The first time our skin collided.
It was like a car crash, but we liked the pain.
I wrapped my arms around you, you held my waist. The smell of your hair hit me, I knew it was meant to be.

That girls gone now,
She lives nearby, she is healthy and well.
But she's gone, gone in my eyes at least.

I'm sick of this routine.

I wake up.
I think of you.
I look in the mirror.
I think of you next to me.

I listen to the songs we once knew as ours, my eyes fill up. Do tears come from the heart? As my eyes fill up; my heart feels empty.

You don't know it, but I still carry you on my sleeve, you're the one that mattered.

Some say love is a game, if that's the case I've lost. Love stabbed me. It torn me. But im glad it did, it's made me who I am today, the pain makes me stronger.

I know this isn't the end. One day I'll see you with your kids, and you'll see me with mine, we won't say it, but we'll both know it.

"This could've been us". We'll think.

The tears streamed down her face.
Much like the blood trickling down her forearm.

Put down the blade darling.

You're worth more than that.

I know they get to you, can't you see though? One persons pain is another's gain. You're giving them what they want.

She takes a breathe, suddenly the release hits her as she takes another strike, the sink begins to flood. With tears or with blood?

Suddenly as she is about to collapse, she regrets her relapse.

Her body caresses the floor, like road **** on a motorway, except she's much more beautiful.

Daddy kicks the door, he begs and pleads, he screams out in pain, but he's too late, the blade hit her vain.

Goodbye.
Goodbye.

There's a child on the corner, with a tear in her eye. She's missing her mother, we all miss someone who's died.

If we could bring back the ones we loved, we'd just break our hearts again. Is one life enough, or should we do it again?

The little girl is crying, she's letting out a moan. Her mother was dying, now she's all alone.

All she has is her friend, except he's make believe. He looks just like her father, except he wears his heart on his sleeve.

Her mothers last words were "do what you love, and love what you do". Then she gasped for air, and her face turned blue.

On cold nights, she thinks of her mother. And what she would've been. With her own mind she fights, to wipe the slate clean.

My friends don't know me.
I'm not who they think I am.
Most friends help eachother, If I looked to a friend for help, they'd laugh and mock me.

What I want is someone to listen.
Someone to care.
Someone to tell me there secrets.

I'm not different.
I just don't hide what I am.
Imagine it, freedom.

Freedom to express;
How you feel.
What you want.
Why you're hurting.
What you love.

Someday I'll have someone.
Someone, I can trust my feelings with.
Someone who won't go telling everyone my private feelings the second we fall out.