She doesn't know how it can ever get better
She began to think and wrote her suicide letter
Her best friend had told her their friendship was fake
Now no one will help her, that's her choice to make
Everyone thinks she is fine; she hasn't told anyone yet
That her head's filled with bullets and sorrow and regret
She spends her nights all alone, crying in the bathroom
She sits on her bed, imagining her inevitable doom
Nobody even seemed to notice or care
She knows it's time, so she grabs the rope and the chair
Her parents aren't home, she seems to think it's fate
A smile would've saved her life, but now it's too late.
~ PINK // August 2014
YOU ARE READING
Our Little Tragedies
PoésieThis is my poetry, starting from July 2014. I write about my life and desires and how I see the world. My pen name is PINK. Feel free to point out any typos. Enjoy :)
