Stood on her own,
she looks down at her phone.
Midnight it ticks,
her heart felt like a trick.
One. Two. Three.
This is the end of me.
She writes down a message,
a hope to lead a new passage.
She held her breath,
she counted to death.
Collapsed she lay,
just gone the new day.
The note read..
"Please don't hurt the dead. We've gone mad in our head. I hope that the people who made me want to do this today, can live with the fact that they helped me die step by step. Whatever they may say, it's for there own dismay."
YOU ARE READING
A shout of quite poems
PoetryExpressed feelings that I've put into some thing. All poems are my own.
