Tears fall down her face,
Each side like a race.
She cries because their hate,
But she thought this was her fate.
She had so much to live for,
Yet she wanted more.
She couldn't be brave,
Not enough to let herself be saved.
She watched in amusement,
In that moment,
When she watched her reflection.
She watched the rejection,
Flow out of her.
At least it's not murder,
It's a chore.
He next morning she won't be sore,
She's taking out the trash,
The blood and the tears clash.
She takes one last breathe.
She's gone forever.
YOU ARE READING
It's Nothing [BEING EDITED]
PoetryDelving into the darkest parts of my mind, It's Nothing has 100 poems not suited for the faint of heart. Mature subjects are played with, suggested, and explicitly stated.