Everything bright got pale.
Everything that had light got frail.
She would hide her face away.
She would stand by a conversation with not a word to say.
To some she came off shy.
But those nights she drank and got high.
Anxiety took over her she was corrupt.
She began to lose herself to self destruct.
Oh how she was happy.
Now she barely cracked a smile.
Severe panic attacks and depression.
She sat there for hours in transgression
Picking at her pure skin ever so bliss.
She had no one to heal the pain with a kiss.
She was alone and hurt.
She screamed for help but no one was alert.
She tried writing everything on paper.
But written expressions failed, so she turned to her razor.
Slashed her skin open with the small blade.
Because no one came to her aid.
After a while she had not one friend.
And she grew to her widths end.
That evening she wrote.
She used this for voice as she spoke.
Tears furrowing down her cheeks.
She always said she was strong but I knew she was weak.
Her hands shaking from anxiousness.
And that last sentence she was breathless.
She sat there as the tub filled up.
Stepped in as she finally gave up.
She was brave to many for sticking around so long.
And she thought about a better life until she was gone.
Her letter hadn't much to say but a small quote.
"She became like the moon only part of her shown,no one realized and no one had known. She's gone because of your words,now you reap what you sow."-Anon.
And just like that she was gone.
Obliged no more to the world.
Ha! Hope whomever read that liked it.Was a bit afraid at first to post though.;)
