Benevolent Harlequin

She screamed out her pain,
She shed her last tear.
She slit her last vein,
No more fear.

She is not who she used to be,
A weary girl in her macabre mind.
A black veil prevented her to see,
That this cruel world could be kind.

But maybe she doesn't want this,
Maybe she doesn't want to be better.
F**k living in contentment and bliss,
She doesn't want to be a happy "go getter".

She was fine the way she was before,
Keeping to herself and avoiding others.
She liked hiding behind a locked door,
Just lying in bed crying under the covers.

The blood she shed stained the razor's blade,
You didn't understand.
Doing this made all the memories fade,
But you couldn't see this when taking her hand.

You say "It doesn't have to be like this",
But that was what she wanted.
She let you mold her anyway,
A sad girl turned happy; something to be flaunted.

You shaped her into something she's not,
She acts like a different person.
Happiness in a bottle, something that's bought,
Pills to be taken so her depression won't worsen.

Now she is like a zombie,
Your very own mannequin.
How could this be me?
This Benevolent Harlequin.