A year passes and she couldn't take it anymore,
Wrists burning, body so sore.
With hands shaking wild she wrote.
She knew she didnt have much time.
Slowly dying,
She said she loved him once more, crying.
Hearing the tone in her voice,
He knew she wasn't lying.
As she lay there,
Bleeding out.
In her last words,
She cried out.
Dear agony,
You've finally let go of me.
I'm so sorry,
But this is the way it's gotta be.
And not a sound left her lips after.
Her voice never to be heard again.
YOU ARE READING
Wristcutters: A Love Story
PoetryA young 14 year old girl falls in love with a 19 year old guy. Obstacles start to form and get in the way of them being happy together, and things start to get really hard.
