1,000 words of hate still lerking,
She begged for the high of drugs to start working.
Her hot tears quickly streaming,
And that's when she thought of leaving.
Maybe if there was a fatal slit down her wrist,
she feared for her soul that no one would miss.
As she dug for the blade that could end everything sad,
Outcame from her dresser was a paper and pad.
She reached for the pen and paper that was ever so bright,
Little did she know it would save her life.
The paper that was spotted with tears,
also held her feelings and pain she held in for years.
She had lost her hope,
Her sense of light.
She wanted this to be her final night,
Until she picked up the pen and started to write.
