Her Suicide

She couldn't handle the pain,
Couldn't handle no love,
Had no angels,
Watching her from above.

Just a sixteen-year-old girl,
With no hope ahead,
So she cut her wrists,
And watched as they bled.

It hurt so badly,
Yet felt so good.
She was the only one,
Who truly understood.

The lies that surrounded her,
Her parents never there,
Her two faced friends,
Nobody seemed to care.

Living this life,
She could no longer handle.
She hung herself,
As her feet dangled.

Her face turned blue,
The rest of her body white.
The cuts on her wrists,
What an awful sight.

She had nothing to gain,
And nothing to lose,
She was hurt emotionally,
Battered and bruised.

She felt hopeless,
And never ending pain,
She had so many people,
For this whom she blamed.

So on that night,
She did herself a favor,
When she cut herself
With her razor.

She then went all the way,
And slowly she left.
She chose not to live,
And turned to death.

This all is what happened,
Everything here that I wrote,
I know this because,
This was her suicide note.