She's staring at her wrist,
and envying it's perfection.
She's planned this for so long,
but nobody pays attention.
She's made up her mind,
and she's not afraid to die.
She's not afraid of pain,
and there's no need to say 'good-bye.'
She's afraid no one will stop her,
even though she hates her life.
She's blank and she's tired,
as she glances at the knife.
She puts the blade to her skin
and she knows what she is doing.
she slits her wrist,
but exactly whose life is she ruining?
She's lying on the floor
watching her soul slip away
She's still crying and she's lifeless,
in her head she starts to pray.
She's closing her eyes
and it's time for her to go.
She whispers, "I'm so sorry,"
but to whom... we'll never know.
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