It was calling her
death was calling her
It's quiet whispers soothing and seducing
The thought of not waking up ever again was enticing
She was tired
Of bruising and bleeding to stop the hurt she felt
The scars and cuts on her skin
An evidence of what she's been through
She looked into the mirror for the first time in a while
And the last time in her life she smiled
She picked up the red lipstick from her dresser and wrote on the mirror
I'm sorry.
YOU ARE READING
In My Coin |complete ✅
PoetrySuicidal poems, A Confrontation with the grim reaper. Short poems of peoples thought before they reach the after life. Their conversations with the grim reaper and near death experiences.
