Empty pill bottles,
scattered on the floor.
A long bloody knife,
laying in an empty drawer.
My lonely body,
slumped in a chair.
Bet nobody cares,
about that girl over there.
Nobody knows
she loves Stephen King,
about her,
nobody knows anything.
They don't know
why she did it.
Nobody knows that most of the time,
she felt like worthless shit.
And because you didn't care,
she is now dead.
So next time you do this,
just remember where it led.
 
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