She lies in bed crying
wishing she were dieing
she hates her life
and wants to end it with a suicide knife
she kept it hidden, locked away
longing to use it each and every day.
when the pain has reached its full extent,
she picks it up to try and vent.
the cool blade feels good against her skin
she has slit her wrists once again
the crimson blood turns black and thick
lying on her bed she begins to kick
her life is slowly draining
like her blood, outside is pouring raining
her mom walks in and begins to scream
she wakes up and gives a sigh, it was but a dream.
