Her mother opens her bedroom door.
It has only been four months since that day.
But it feels like it happened yesterday.
She looks over at the tiny red splotch of blood near the reading desk.
That little splotch that she couldn't remove.
And now it only serves as a reminder.
She can see it all clearly again.
Her daughter's dying breath,
The blood flowing out of her wrists.
She can hear her own screams as she begs Lauren to stay with her.
She hears her husband's heavy steps as he bursts into the room.
She quickly blinks back her tears.
She can't keep doing this.
It doesn't help to picture her own daughter like that.
What could she have done?
Did she do everything?
She turns her back on the blood stain and picks up the trash can.
She slowly empties it into another large garbage bag.
A crumpled up piece of paper drifts slowly onto the floor.
She bends to pick it up.
Something in her told her to open it, so she did:
Attention seeking whore, kys
YOU ARE READING
Collection of Poems
PoetryA collection of different poems that I will write. *DISCLAIMER: ANYTHING WRITTEN IN THIS BOOK IS PURELY BASED OFF OF MY IMAGINATION, UNLESS STATED OTHERWISE, NOTHING IN THIS STORY ACTUALLY REFLECTS ME OR HOW I FEEL. I JUST FIND IT EASIER TO WRITE DA...
