"Dear lord. . . Help my soul."
-Edgar Allan Poe
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How sad! 
One more night she laid down by her self in the bed whishing and making fantasies by the phone.
The love of her life is gone one more night and now she has to be going sleep with her wet skin.
Inside of her head are a lot of fantasies but out side is a lot of loneliness and now she has to go sleep one more night with out having what she needs into her life.
How sad! With a love like that, anybody can die but you, you have to hold all the attention and tension inside because has make you blind and that is why you decide to play with fire.
Now you think that you are going to hell but woman when in this world you stay by you self having the love of your life in front of you and doesn’t do anything you have to reach for another light, but how sad that one more night you have to spend it by your self in your own sad world one more time, one more night! 
By
Christian K. Montiel
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She paints a pretty picture
But this picture has a twist, you see… 
Her paintbrush is a razor
And her canvas is her wrist