Suicide

She walks through her bedroom door,
Thinking of everything,
That drove her to this state,
Of complete sorrow,
She picks up the razor,
Her only friend,
In this world,
Of kill or be killed,
Tonight she chooses both,
As she watches the drops of crimson,
Fall to the floor,
She apologizes for being,
And ends it all,
But she doesn’t know,
How many people,
Really do care,
How many she put through pain,
By slaughtering herself,
But it’s too late now.
I walk through my bedroom door,
And wonder,
What could have been so bad?
That the only way she could get out,
Was to commit suicide.