eyes so blue
hair of gold
her actions new
her sadness old

she tries so hard
her pain she hides well
never relaxing her guard
her happiness she sells

little miss perfect
thats what they all think
"my life isn't worth it"
she writes in dark ink

water filled tubs
perforated skin
men in scrubs
they load her in

her mother cries
she grasps her hand
her father tries
desperate to understand

but she was already dead
a second too late
wrists soaked red
9-22 12:38