She looks out her window,
Wondering how it could be so peaceful,
When inside herself
It is like an angered storm.
The knife she holds in her hand begins to look more welcoming,
She brings it to her wrist
And presses it hard against her flesh.
It releases some of her pain,
But not enough.
She wants it all to end,
Opening her tenth floor window,
She looks down at her arm
And presses the blade once more against her skin,
Watching the blood flow
She begins to feel lightheaded.
Slowly she climbs out onto the window ledge,
She lets go,
And falls to her death-