Gets into the shower and closes the curtain
Tightly clenched fists loosen as the water hits
Warm like the sun
Warm like blood

Runs her hands over the bony landmass of her arm
And the shallow sea of skin
There's no hair to protect the delicate waves,
Got rid of it and left the sea to catch fire

Presses her ear to the wall and hears the water running,
Behind the white barrier
Feels the disease take over her again
Leans her head back to let the water rain down

Water tickles her head and runs through pin-straight hair,
Thin as the walls of her heart and the guard of her mind
Let him in too easily
Never forgives herself

Bangs skull against wall in frustration,
Screams with helplessness that makes angels cry
Overwhelmed with hate and love,
Sees a shiny, sharp escape

Ignores it for a while as it stares her down
Can see the red flowing from the tip
Tears build in her eyes
Doesn't want this

Cowardice is suicide's best friend,
But bravery is, too
Not a brave one, obviously
Giving in to the Devil's will

Watches in fascination as the water drops from her fingertips
They slide down the wall
But soon enough the drops become red and
Drops are waterfalls

The shower doesn't stop.

.

.

.

Suicide is never the answer.

Wow. Darkest poem I've ever written. This is not about me, and never will be. No flames, please.