She goes to bed alone again,
In the darkness of her soul,
She thinks there is no way out,
No way out of this world.
Thoughts of knives and pills fill her mind,
The sound of skin being sliced,
And the sound of blood dripping to the tiled floor,
She's starting to detach from reality.
Drops of blood turn to streams
Streams of red -crimson,
She's losing grip of everything
She falls to the floor and begins to laugh.
This is it there's no turning back,
She's locked the door this time,
No one can save her,
She's no longer sane.
She doesn't care to any extent,
She's given up on the world and the humans in it,
She doesn't have a thing left for her here,
Other then more grief and brutality.
The streams are rivers of claret,
Everything turns to a shade of red
All she sees is red.
She takes one last breath of air,
And falls to sleep in her ruby bed.
