Unfinished

There the bottle sits,
straight across the table.
And she has yet to learn her lesson,
in this twisted fable.

She just likes to get away,
you know forget about it.
Not so badly that she's dead,
though her gun holds that one bullet.

And the stains in her room?
The ones she swore were cherry kool-aid?
Well it really involves a razor,
and that's just where the blood laid.

-Unfinished!-