She quickly picked up her pace,
they were following her,
just so they could see the look on her face.
Like vultures, they picked at her,
with every name they could possible think of,
every single slur.
They eventually settled down,
daily they had submerged her in insults,
but this time, she drowned.
Later that day,
just after everyone fell asleep,
she knew they all would pay.
And holding nothing but a knife,
she traced precise cuts into her wrists,
her emotions were rife.
And holding nothing but a knife,
the cuts got deeper,
and she ended her own life.
(A/N) I apologize for the weak rhymes, I really do not enjoy rhyming poetry, nor am I good at it.