Slicing her wrists,
She sat on her bed,
As suicidal thoughts
Ran through her head.

Her father, he drank,
Her mother, she smoked,
And a short cry for help
Came out when she spoke.

She knew they loved her,
Somewhere deep inside,
They showed no feelings,
Except those of pride.

As she heard them fighting
Down the hall,
She threw down the blade,
And began to fall.

Falling for what
She hoped was safe,
For if it was not,
It would be too late.

They found her that night,
Lying in the floor,
Her blades and some pills,
Lay by the door.

They took her to the hospital,
Where they found she was dead.
Then the feelings of love,
Ran through their heads.

As they lowered her down,
Into the moist, dark ground.
You could hear them sobbing,
As they looked upon and frowned.

Now what could have happened
If they would have shown love?
Maybe she'd still be here,
Instead of above.


 
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