the gentle mascara that moulds her eyelashes clings to the white pillow cases
a mixture of doubts and heavy breathing underneath
the suffocating sky awakens
an ancient feeling within her damaged heart
head swaying, shaking back and forth
piercing the night sky with her pained screams yet no one comes to her rescue
no one attempts to once hold the dying woman as she spends her time
watching her empty life like a tragic movie
every moment after wretched moment
16 years that had 99 issues and 1 solution that she could never attain
she was never able to be okay
the gun now speaks a somber song
of love and death and immortal happiness
when the pain is vanquished and the night becomes still
that is when her soul will leave this world
and all you'll have left is a childish laugh
and a mascara stained pillow.

-crying will always be in fashion

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