She died,
Soul goes up,
To her heaven.
Which is really her own personal hell
How she died,
Everyone knows.
Wrote her note,
Then watched as the blood poured out.
Looked at the glass,
She held in her hand,
So small,
Yet it cut so deep.
Used it to cut
Her frail, pale skin.
And watched as the blood poured out.
Body stayed there,
No smile on her face,
But her soul lifted up to
The sky where she had
Her own personal heaven,
Which turned out to be
Not so great.
She looked down on earth,
On her barely there family,
As they struggled to live on.
After the funeral,
They buried her now,
But the grave looked so bold.
Flowers decorated the brown dirt
They displaced,
Making everything seem not ok.
She was dead.
As they read the note,
They had to wonder why.
She looks down on them,
Her family and friends,
And people that she barely knew.
They go through their lives,
More dead than living.
Just on autopilot,
Until they crash.
So she sits in heaven,
Her own personal hell.
Because she just wants to go down,
To earth to start over again.
But she can't.
Because god has more power than she.
He runs everything,
Leaving her alone,
To watch her family grow old.
They grow old and wrinkle,
But she stays young,
Not a day older than when she died.
This is worse than life,
Her heaven,
Her own personal hell.
Because how can you escape your death?
She’d rather be living,
Than live this 'life'.
Because it's not heaven at all.
Their lives ruined,
Hers over,
Though she struggles to hold back on.
She sits in her heaven,
Her own personal hell,
And wishes she could go back.
Back to the day when she smiled
And laughed.
And had not a care in the world.
Her family is ruined,
Falling apart,
And she knows that she is to blame.
Something tells her she has to let go,
To let them go on with their lives.
But she is selfish,
In her heaven,
Which is really her own personal hell
So selfish,
That she never lets go,
Just keeps holding tighter and tighter.
She wishes she could go back,
To fix her mistakes,
But life is like marker.
Permanent,
Can’t go back,
To fix what you have done,
There will always be that scar
Or extra white paper,
Where you tried to be perfect,
But failed because no one is that good.
She is selfish, she knows,
But she can't let them go.
She runs them to do her life over,
Wants to pretend
That she is them,
And she is living again.
She sits in her heaven,
Her own personal hell,
And wishes for another chance,
To start over again,
But life is like marker,
You can't undo,
What has already been done.
