Sitting in her room,
Staring out the window at the moon,
She closes her big blue eyes,
Against all the lies,
She presses her hands to the glass,
Trying not to remember the past, she looks down at her wrists,
They both had been kissed,
By a razor a few times,
The blood slid silent as a mimes,
But not today,
Those were the memories at bay,
I need it she thought,
Then found a razor she sought,
Just a few, were her words,
As she cut through her wrists cords,
Her salty tears fell,
"I'm tired of this hell,
Just a few more",
As she fell to the floor.
