She complains of emptiness
A draw of the blunt, rivers of liquor.
Suppressed & oppressed
"Can death come any quicker?"
Half her soul down the drain
Her noose; preferably a spiked chain..
Drowning in thoughts
fighting last minute and now swimming to shore..
Washed up on land, attempting to stand
But no longer can..
She sits up and sees a wave coming in
Giving up and unable to rise
Arms extended towards the sky
Shutting her eyes
Waiting for the tide to come in..
The end now begins.