Her dad wasn't around much, and her mother never cared.
She was worn down, broken beyond repair.
Her brother introduced her to alcohol and ****.
Was this really the life that she would lead?
Would she turn out to be just like her dad?
If her brother was doing it, it couldn't be that bad.
With no real home, she took to the streets, selling drugs, selling herself.
Going through all this trouble all in hopes of someday having a better life, having wealth.
What could she do, she knew of no other way.
She didn't think about what people would think or say.
Popping pills every day and every night.
She tried to stop, but her addiction put up a fight.
She became someone she didn't even know anymore.
Did it matter? No. Everyone just referred to her as the neighborhood *****.
Rumors started spreading, such as that she had STDs or that she'd '**** for a buck'.
She tried to control it, but she had no luck.
They kept on teasing, but they had no idea what her story was.
Is it okay to bully someone just because?
She started to self harm.
Cuts all over her legs, cuts up and down her arms.
She'd lost all her friends, so all alone she sat.
What'd she do if someone were to notice the cuts? She'd blame the cat.
Things only got worse with her dad now beating her at home.
No one ever saw the bruises, she was all alone.
Suicide started to lurk in her head.
Each deep, dark thought bringing her closer to her death bed.
They were there when she woke, slept, ate. All those rumors, all those lies bringing her to this self hate.
Those cuts were no longer just nine or ten.
Her life was ****, why shouldn't it end?
Cutting deeper, with tears streaming down her face.
She knew it was time to get out of this awful place.
She tied a rope around her neck and stood on a chair.
No one would miss her, no one would care.
She looked up, as she took her final breath.
Her mother finds her child hanging lifeless, and wishes she could fix this, but its much too late, for now, the girl's in the arms of death.