The story of a young girls suicide

A young girl sits, face a picture of pain,
Can't hold back the tears,
As she watches her latest cut appear,
Deep and red against her vein.

A young girl sits, wishing she could put away her blade,
Wants to be the girl she pretends to be,
Carefree and forever happy,
She wishes she could live that charade.

A young girl sits, devoured by sorrow,
Trying hard to keep from dying,
Her heart aches and mind spins as she's crying,
The only hope, that things will get better tomorrow.

A young girl sits and tries to conceal,
She'll never tell them what's going on inside,
So in her room she tries in vain to hide,
The one true testimony to how she feels.

A desperate mother sits on her child's bed,
Dying to know what's on the young girl's mind,
But not prepared for what she'll find,
The diary falls from her hands as she tries to accept what she's just read.

A young girl sits fingering a length of rope,
She can't go on now they know she's a slave to the knife,
Hating her miserable excuse for a life,
The young girl knows there's no longer any hope.

A young girl stands on her chair head in a noose,
She isn't afraid, she welcomes death,
So she steps off her chair with one last breath,
The young girl swings from her bedroom light, the cord round her neck no longer loose.

A heartbroken mother lifts her dead child to the floor,
Wondering if she could have saved her had she only seen,
How close to the edge her daughter had been.
But she needn't have wept for the young girl because in that final moment she found the peace she'd been searching for.

Maybe this seems like a happy ending?
A young girl finds her peace of mind,
But it was at the expense of those she left behind.
Did she know or did she care,
How much suffering she'd cause when she lept from that chair?

For clare.

*thanks 4 Reading i no it was reli long*