[Avox.]

Depression

It ran through her blood,
Which was becoming scarce.
The knife was her saviour,
God was her angel.

She was happy.
That was her stoic mask.
She smiled, she was cheerful.
She brightened moods.
She cared so much.

But underneath the bubbles
Was a permanent frown,
One that could never turn upside down.

She envied the smiles of anyone else.
She could never be like that.
Her beauty resembled a stone-
Dull, boring, crooked and unnoticed.

Her blue eyes stood for the tears
That overflowed inside.
Her red hair matched
The broken heart within.

She only wanted happiness-
Real, not fake.
She begged God whilst slitting her wrists.
The blood poured out
And she hoped it took the sadness away too.

But she would wake up the next morning,
Tears drenched in her pillow,
Freshly cut wounds bled to her sheets,
And a heart that eventually turned to ashes.