She starts gathering up her things.
She's getting ready for her trip.

No one aware.
No one who cares.

Her pillow is harder,
Her pill bottles full,
Her bag is waiting,

And now she's ready to leave.

Not yet.
Not ready.
Not alone.

Fighting with herself, or rather her friends.
The one's who are her voice.
THE voice's.

Trying to plan on still.
For they have yet to begin getting ready.

Not smart.
Not scared.
Not brave.

They've made up their minds.
They've packed their bag's.
They're ready to go.

Her knife, her friends, her sanity.
Is ready.