Tear stained eyes,
Blood stained wrists,
No one knows it was the old her
That she really missed.
They said it'd get better,
But all they spoke were lies,
They never knew how hard it really hit her,
Until they found out she died.
"All your fault," she wrote,
Ink smeared from tears,
"How could you do this to me?"
All she felt was fear.
Now she feels nothing,
The moments before were pure bliss,
She only saw the memories
Of when she used to be her old self.