She was born into a world where pain is supreme
Nothing is just as it seems.
As her days on Earth grew,
She saw pain as her only way through.
Days turn into months, turn into years
Lots of blood shed, lots of tears.
Happiness never lasted and torment is all she knows,
"Quick, go get those sexy pantyhose!"
Then the one who broke her heart,
Tore her being completely apart.
After were the infamous three,
Who gang-fucked her so brutally.
Right as she relaxes and learns to live with the strife,
She meets the one she will make her wife.
But the sickness is still there,
Should I or should I not dread my hair?
The razor still calls her name,
She returns without shame.
She drags the blade across her wrists,
Thinking of all the happiness she will miss.
The blood begins to "run down her arms, down her thighs,
Oh my god! I feel so alive!"
She lays in the tub as it slowly turns red,
Thinking of all the things she should have said
To the people who will miss her when she's gone
The one's who will miss hearing her songs.
She thinks over the life she's had
"I should have said goodbye to Dad."
Pain and hurt is all life had to give.
But even life, in love, wasn't worth it to live.
Her compulsion to bleed overcame her will to survive.
Her life flows out, no longer alive.
She is more at peace now
I know she is ok, somehow
Because she lacks the strength to end it forreal
Just can't push hard enough on that steel
So instead of really doing myself in,
I write poetry that I die in the end.

October 2003