She's not suicidal, she's realistic

She looks up at the long black rope,
it seals her fate, it ends her hope.
a salty tear rolls down her cheek,
her depression at its peak,
she is now weak,

in the basement again, she waits,
for someone to come tell her to stop,
when no one comes, she cries again,
her basement floor absorbs more water than a mop.

her life has been but a black hole,
sucking at all her bliss,
when she rises above, she gets pulled back down,
its like recieving a cionide kiss.

she pulls a blade out of a drawer, and looks up at the rope of fate,
she snatches the rope, and cuts it down,
a symbol to her end of self hate.

even though she stands alone,
she feels that she does have a friend,
she drops a piece of the rope to the ground,
at least she knows how it doesn't have to end.

© aja bolivia nicole