She's sitting there, sullen and defeated

Her body weak and limp due to years of sorrow

Her eyes, a crystal lattice of fiery blood vessels and tears

Lain in the corner like the carcass of a forgotten kill

No sounds come out but you can hear the screams

The loud, ever piercing screams of a lifetime of agony

Approaching her sends sharp bursts of terror through your spine

You know vaguely what you are to find, but wish not to find it

You knew it was going on, people like this gives hints

They desire help, yet are to incapacitated to have to strength to ask

You touch her shoulder, hands running on a tear sodden shirt

She flinches ever so slightly, the littlest tremor upsetting her fragile system

She looks into your eyes with hers, her eyes of the dead

You see them, the cursed little lines of red

The red lines of human misery

The red lines of suffering

The red lines of ignorance

Blood

The blood is soaking her skin, seeping through the open wounds

Across the street and down the river

All travels have been made

It's hard to tell if there was arm left

Or if now it had become the ever gruesome symbol of helplessness

She wipes her eyes, blooding her face and cracks a smile

That damned smile she always wore as a mask

You can't help but fall into her and wrap your arms around her

Why is it hugs can't cure?

The blood is on you both now and as your head lays on her shoulder

You can hear something

Something not right

Her breathing is raspy and heartbeat wild

She grins and holds back tears as she holds down the collar of her shirt

Exposing her chest, her bloody chest

"It won't hurt anymore, it'll make the pain go away"

The wound is deep, right in the heart

She's in your arms, and now she's dead.

They says depression hurts

They say depression kills

But they got it all wrong

Ignoring the signs, that's what kills.