Porcelain queen

Sitting cross-legged on her porcelain throne,
Chest heaving quiet cries of unknown angst;
Tissues float lightly in the pool beneath her--
She fights inside her, coping with all the lies, self hate.
School newsletters and
permanent marker graffiti entomb her,
Silently looking onward as she
pours her soul into grieving past mistakes.
She thinks here, wondering if a good life
Might just've been a few
Misguided years too late;
Such an immense amount of pain
For such a short amount of life,
Such a small amount of words
For such a large amount of strife;
But she wipes away the tears
like she wiped away her life--
Gets up off her throne and
holds her head up high;
And as she walks away
to face her fears one more time,
Steps into the night.

~plz comment/vote i will do the same for u~

.::side note::. this poem is describing a girl in a bathroom, the toilet being hher 'porcelain throne' as she sits in the stall contemplating her life, if u were confused at all...