Her perfection
A state of need
Slashed her wrists
And now she bleeds
Her shattered fate
Is close to end
No way her heart
Could ever mend
So beautiful
In life and death
She had taken
Her last breath
The thin red cuts
Run deep within
She had to leave
Her life of sin
Her skin so white
A porcelian doll
The crimson drips
Had lost it all
Drown in the dark
To ease her pain
And blood of hers
Will fall like rain
Her troubled soul
Had gone away
Her beauty grew
From day to day
Her mirror crashed
As she fell
She knew that time
could never tell
Her age, her soul
Too old to see
And this became
Her final plea
"Take my life
and ease my pain
Make my blood
fall like rain"
Beautiful and painful to read. A fine work indeed.
It's quite interesting how all the things that you write wilt in just one work of a phase of depression, dont you think? But yet, when that one piece of work is finished, it's as if you've poured everything onto that one sheet of paper, and so you have nothing left. Amusing how depression has its ups and downs, neh?
-Xer0