A Rhyme in time.

They told her she was pretty.

They told her she was pretty,

She was yet to believe.

She looked in the mirror,

And ugly was all that she could see.

She locked her self in the bathroom,

And pulled up her shirt.

Mentally abusing herself,

From all that she had heard.

She stripped her self down,

And pulled out her best friend.

And began painting,

On the canvas we call skin.

Wishing she was dead,

she tried to forget the pain.

Taking the pills out of the bottle,

She was gonna try again.

They went down her throat,

With a bottle of liquor.

Closing her eyes and breathing,

Death was shortly with her.

They told her she was pretty,

She should have listened then.

For now that she is happy,

She means nothing to them.

By: Zoe Brewer