She remembers every detail her father told her-
Everything there was to be said of the two miscarriages to the misfortune of her mother.
It was discussed long ago she can't remember,
But she keeps it in mind for the hurt.
She talks to those that seem too unfortunate to her mom,
But she's lived through the same pain yet has managed to live through and get along.
Of course, her mother doesn't even know at all-
Only if she knew a little thing of such life that's so wrong,
But she doesn't-so her sad life keeps on.
Before, she used to seek love for the sake of her happiness,
Turns out every time she becomes depressed,
And now seeks more to enjoy the sad poems she writes once she's so damn stressed.
It seems sick-all the pain and agony she causes herself to suffer,
But it's what gets her strong-somehow, yet weaker,
It's what satisfies her yet causes torture,
It's what makes her live day by day and yet still kills her,
Yet it's the key to her inner amusement of her poems and dreams.
She'd probably kill herself before she ever lets it all out,
But too bad she died long ago, so there's nothing for her to do now-
Except write her soul out onto a paper that will never be read,
And go in circles of whether or not she should be upset
That she's alone and will never be understood-not even heard,
So her misery can get the best of her and write more death threatening thoughts on that paper to reread them later for comfort.
To think her sick mental torture is her natural cure,
That her horrible pain and agony is what keeps her going.
Such actions are so insane,
But to her, it's the perfect way
