The year was twenty twelve. The age was thirteen. Cora was the girl with the dying dream. The dream was to be loved, and love like never before. The dream was that she could mend her pieces that had long ago been torn. She slipped into her room, feeling more and more depressed. She was all alone, with her razor as her guest. And she cried a silent river, made an ocean out of blood. Her hurt turned into water, she was stuck inside its flood. She could not escape it, this was the only way. With the blade of that razor, Cora died that day. The year is twenty eighteen, it was six years ago today; six years ago that Cora Lee took her life away. She had cried a silent river, made an ocean out of blood. Her hurt had turned to water, she was stuck inside the flood. Words can really hurt, more than the eye can see. Ugly, hurtful words were the end of Cora Lee. Don't listen to such words, don't get caught inside the flood. Don't become a victim of the ocean made of blood.
