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Sam's writing space
Just my place to reflect or ask for opinons on my writing or to share news and storie
Nameless.
Drip, drip, drip
Pitch-black bedroom.
She was a happy girl.
Options lined up in front of her,
Guys behind.

Window opened to the star speckled sky.
Crescent moonlight coming through.
Her Parents were baffled,
When they came home that night.

A note neatly folded on the desk
Only said, “I’m Sorry.”
People told them, “She only wanted attention.”
“You did nothing wrong.”

Gun resting on the floor.
An arm outstretched for it,
Limp
Her boyfriend broke up with her,
Her grades started slipping.

Face berried in her white feather pillow
Now spattered with droplets of scarlet.
Alcohol started disappearing from the cabinet.
They assumed it was because of her brother.

The sceen looked much like her aunt’s
She never knew about her aunt.
They said she was crazy.
Saw the dead or something.

“You did nothing wrong.”
Do you believe that?
Your 15 year old, happy, suceful, daughter
Killer herself.

Was she really happy?
Did you take the time to talk with her?
Did you?

You say you don’t know why she did it.
Her life was perfect.
To an outsider.
To someone who didn’t through her eyes
And saw people’s pain.
Fell through her heart
And felt everything.
Or try to make it through her everyday.

She couldn’t make it through another day.
Teasing, taunting, sitting alone.
She started to believe what she heard.
You’re ugly.
You’re stupid.
You’re fat.
Her permanent solution.

Now she lies in a peaceful place
No one teases or hurts her here.
She didn’t know what to do.
So she left.


P.s. this was a heath assignment about suicide.






 
 
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