She
Staring at
the ceiling;
blinking away tears
from the latest disaster.
A black velvet box,
proped open on her bed;
with something shining in the light.
No ring, no neckalce, jewel or ruby,
could compare to the joy this precious
metal gives her
Cold, unforgiving steel,
An edge just sharp enough;
Her drug; her pain reliever;
An arms length away on her bed
Her strength and will broke;
She bowed her head;
Brought the razor to her wrist;
ran it over her skin.
tickled by the pain;
tears ran down her face in relief.
A sick laugh bubbles from her chest;
As the razor sinks in deep;
the blood drips down her arms;
a scarlet red
she smiles in satisfaction.
&finally;
can rest
Format by Sandrasaurus
