The words are like rope,
wrapped around her neck.
The stares are like blades,
that cut through her wrists.
The laughs are like needles,
that tear through her skin.

But none of that can compare to her mind that is like a gun, the trigger pulled fast and the bullet through her head...
You see that is what had happened.
What left her dead.

-been

roses were red
violets were blue
now they are black
i dont know what to do

my life is in shambles
my heart beats too fast
my stomachs constantly turning
and i find myself fumbling

i found a new hobby
one you'll love too
its called counting the lines
and colouring them too.

my choice is long
with lots to follow
as the red paint sets in
tears well in my eyes.

you see i draw with a blade across my skin and paint with my blood which seems so thin for it's pouring out fast and there is no telling if its stopping
I'm too tired to play more.
Good Night and Good COUNTING.

-been