Rainy days and silhouettes.
She survives another day, with no luck on her side,
the last leaves of fall bid her goodbye.
"I wish it were easier." The words play her dry,
she's one more bottomless pit, giving life another try.
Those thin lines of crimson are decently sized,
enough for reminders, though aimlessly prized.
A cure to the pain; the dull blade is placed,
on the porcelain skin covering her vein.
As air hits her pride, the blade moves to her side;
The blood soon turns, from blue to red,
breaths uneven, obscenities are said.
If only she knew the thousands in her place,
if only she knew she wasn't alone in this maze,
that fragile thing she toyed with called life,
wouldn't be shattered with her blood drenched knife.
the last leaves of fall bid her goodbye.
"I wish it were easier." The words play her dry,
she's one more bottomless pit, giving life another try.
Those thin lines of crimson are decently sized,
enough for reminders, though aimlessly prized.
A cure to the pain; the dull blade is placed,
on the porcelain skin covering her vein.
As air hits her pride, the blade moves to her side;
The blood soon turns, from blue to red,
breaths uneven, obscenities are said.
If only she knew the thousands in her place,
if only she knew she wasn't alone in this maze,
that fragile thing she toyed with called life,
wouldn't be shattered with her blood drenched knife.
♠ ♠ ♠
--Kay so this isn't my best work, it's really short, and it probably doesn't make sense so I'll explain it. The poem is just basically saying that there are, believe it or not, people who go through shit, and that even though at times it seems like suicide is the only way out, it really isn't. This girl wasn't alone, even if she felt like it, and things could've gotten better.