Just something I wrote while thinking.

She drags the blade across her veins,
Too afraid to push down any harder.
She wants to, so badly.
But she can't stand the thought of hurting her Best Friend.
So instead, she'll shed a little blood
Just to ease her pain.
The highness of that small gash lasts for less than a day.
Now she's back where she started:
Searching for that one thing to fill the emptiness.

She opens the bottle of aspirin,
Thinking of how many to take.
Maybe five, or six?
That should last a while.
She wants to take more,
But she cant stand the thought of hurting her best friend.
She swallows the pills,
Goes to sleep and wakes up a few hours later.
The pills helped for a while,
But leave her so empty in the end.
Searching for another source of freedom.

She opens the bottle of liquor,
Doesn't bother to look at what it is.
She just drinks, and drinks.
She finds the handgun in the drawer,
Pulls it out and admires it.
She thinks of the death this could bring her.
The pain it could relieve her from.

"I'm sorry," she says as the tears stream down her face,
"I tried so hard to hold on but it only got worse.
It wasn't your fault so don't feel bad.
You helped me the most.
Don't cry when I go,
Because I won't hurt anymore, no more sadness.
You're my best friend.
Thanks for being there.
Goodbye. I love you."

She pulls the trigger,
And her best friend holds her as she dies,
Asking God why he could let such a thing happen to her.

by Lucy.
[2-12-2007]