Sweet Suicide

*yick*

I sit in the corner,
by myself, all alone.
Reflecting myself, a mourner...
She is as a clone.

Black clothes hang off of her.
I can see in her eyes,
and I try to deter;
that sweet suicide.

Her eyes show her soul
her black, and hollow heart.
Her spirit was unable to be whole
after it fell apart

Her body was broken and bruised;
she put up one hell of a fight.
Being so abused,
she lost hold of the light...

Yet the tears never fell
and she never cried
Although her life was hell
she always tried.

You could see she was tired,
and so full of pain..
Of all the things she desired
it was to be free of the chains.

I went to her aid,
to confort her sores
Then I saw her blade
She was losing self wars.

The look of her face
She wanted to freed...
To escape from the place
she would have to bleed.

I reached out to her
to take her hand
then everything became a blur
I did not understand.

My hand made contact
but not with her skin
The feeling was so abstract
I didnt know what it could have been

the familiar feel of cold glass
was touching on my palm
and then I remembered at last
to what I knew all along.

I regained my mind
and saw imperfection
I feard that this is what I would find....
my own broken reflection

The cracked and broken mirror
upon the dresser drawer
This is my own worst fear
but I wasnt falling anymore...

The bitter tears I now cried
about all the things that I\'ve lied
This is my sweet suicide
This is the rememberence of how I died.