Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2016
She sat with smoke in her hand,
holes in her heart,
blood on her wrists,
and pain in her chest.

Noone understood,
noone tried,
noone cared,
atleast that's what she thought.

She had given up on it all,
love,
family,
friends,
life itself.

She was broken and bruised,
simply confused,
lonely she cruised,
day to night, night to day
all by herself.

"What will the future bring",
she thought for herself,
searched for answers she never found,
moved from cigarettes to the needle,
all she needed was one hit, just one hit
maybe everything would go away
It didn't go away...

One hit turned into many hits,
homeless and sick,
cold and hungry,
on the ground,
she was never found,
in time...

The girl who had given up,
soon became a body so cold,
started to rotten,
and now her body reflected how she felt all along,
she was dead, dead to the core.

The girl who had given up,
and everyone gave up on her too.

She simply crossed the border,
the border from life,
and into the grave...
Pernille Augustson
Written by
Pernille Augustson  25/F
(25/F)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems