Games...

She wipes away a lonely tear
That streams silently down her cheek.
And as she lies back in her bed
Her head and mind feel weak.

All those times she cried for help
It wasn’t ever ‘fine’.
Her life is like a living hell
And she’s running out of time.

Everything is just a rush
A mile-a-minute blur
Running through her desperate mind…
Nothing’s ever right for her.

Desperate times and desperate measures…
It all just feels the same.
And as one hand reaches for the blade…
It all feels like a game…