The girl lays in her bed, her room is lonesome. The dark is a filler, only staying for how long she lets it. Her smiles aren't too happy, her life is kind of sad. She wishes for something to pop out of the window- kill her and get it over with. Her SOS dreams are urgent, and she can't do it herself. A cold blooded killer is what she needs, something to burn this fake self esteem. Her smiles are horrid and this life needs to go. If someone loved her, wouldn't they say so? Burning her in a hell like world, they affect her with a storm. Not a storm of rain, but fire that breaks her down. A cold blooded killer is what she needs, she begs for them to come. Stab her to death and drain her of life, that's exactly what she needs. She didn't care what method they used, as long as results came quick. Shoot her, overdose her, hang her, it's there call. End this world that is going by too slow, for a cold blooded killer needs to be near. She'll sell herself and let them rip her apart into a corpse meal. She was numb, no smile showed, and her room suddenly cold. Was her poor cold blooded killer here? She wished even more. Her thoughts were wicked and her presence morbid. She wrote a note, scribbling small words. They weren't too much, just a fake 3 precious words and a tiny message goodbye. The pain needed to be gone, for her life was hell and this world was the opposite of swell. Running away, into a car- the people ran out worried. She smiled as the laid on the ground, some blood flowing down her long brunette hair. They shook her with cries, as the young girl was trying to die. Forcing her body to go into sleep, one she'd never wake from. The neighborhood heard the screams, and they all ran out the doors. They all recognized her, but who exactly was she? Her parents ran out, and they covered their mouths with shock. Ambulance was called, and in the hospital appeared sobs that this girl didn't know existed. She lived, but why? Her ultimate goal was death. Maybe she really was meant to live, and this was the start of it.
YOU ARE READING
Your Depression is Showing
PoetryThis is just some short things I write about. Some may be about me, but some may not. I hope you don't get depressed while reading this. = Don't copy any of the stories that are presented in this book. Thank you.
