Spilling from wrists,
Staining on carpets,
Dripping from the knife left on the edge of the table
Is the blood poured out
Of the naïve, young heart,
Before beating strongly and slowly not able.

The immensity of love
She held in her heart
Caused her to harbor so much hate.
The world she’s come to
Know and live in
Is one that leaves no desire to wait.

Reaching through darkness
Was never success.
No one and nothing reached back for her.
So she took her own hand,
Hardened her soul,
Numbed her own pain, and they didn’t implore her.

Then she took her own knife
And stared at the reflection
Of the girl she’s come to hate and heed.
Reflections of them
Lie in her eyes,
The ones she called for, but her they don’t need.

It’s tragic when someone
Dies inside,
Screaming her loudest blood-curdling scream,
When outside they see
A pretty face,
The laugh of a life not what it seems.

And when someone shows care
And forces the help,
The last of her desires is to sit and listen
To anything and everything
She knows is true,
But her soul has blackened to a glassy glisten.

Do they regret it now?
Do they want to turn time?
Do they wish they could grab the hand that reached out?
Are they happy now
That she’s gone forever,
No longer a burden, stormy love turned drought?

She took her own hand,
And she took her own heart,
And she crushed her own soul till her dying eyes faded,
And she spilled her own blood,
And she took her own life,
First inside, now out, alone and unaided.

And she took their daughter,
And she took their friend,
And she took the girl not loved anymore,
And she took their student,
And she took their sister,
And she took the girl not feeling cared for.

She doesn’t blame any of them.
They just couldn’t save her from herself.
She’s broken herself for the last time.
She’s breathing her breath for the last time.
Feel all hints of life fade from her body...