A poem to a friend.

She’s a suicidal girl her wrists are
Bloody with scars all over them
She believes her life is meaningless
A mom who could care less and friends who are clueless
Towards her feelings.
She cries herself to sleep, at first she was afraid
To take the razor to her wrist
Finally she did it and cried when she saw the blood
The pain went away so she did it over and over
Soon she had no more perfect wrist
Just a thing full of scars.
No one noticed or those who did ignored it
Slowly that beautiful girl who had everything began to fade
But no one knew that all she wanted was attention
And love from her mom, from anyone
Soon cutting did not help relieve her pain
She needed more she knew exactly how to stop her pain.
She had to end her life
She took her life in her bedroom
Overdosed on drugs.
Her mom found her lying there
She was finally free from the pain and hurt
That wasn’t the only thing she found,
she found her journal, and her cut up wrist
She found everything she needed to find
Except her daughter alive