When the blue, vast skies grow dark
And the orange streetlights go down
When people drift away to unconsciousness
And the rivers slow down
A girl sits up
With a paper in her lap
And a pen in her hand
The lamp beside her table glows
And she writes away her sorrowful thoughts
She scribbles and scrabbles
Never once stopping
A single tear falls off
From the corner of her right eye
And she swiftly wipes it away
Realizing that she'd been crying
While writing her dark thoughts away
She was so numb
And so focused
Her hand ached
Her eyes drooped
Her mind begged her to stop
But she was oblivious
To the silent pleads of her own body
Her eyes were bloodshot
Her wrists were full of scars
that no one saw
All she wanted was someone to love her
All she wanted was someone to care
Her hand ceased writing
Her eyes closed for a moment
She thought of her miserable life
She thought of her dark reality
She knew she was ready for this
For she would do anything to escape such a world
Where people don't love
Where people don't care
She picked up her pen again
And didn't hesitate to write
A last goodbye at the end of the paper
The pen fell to the ground
The paper had her own teardrops fallen on it
As if the paper had been crying
Carrying such a sorrowful story
She opened her drawer
And took out the razor
Which was already bloodstained
For it was the only thing that gave her comfort
But this time would be different
This time she'd be gone
This time it won't be just a cut
This time it would be death
She tightly closed her eyes
Ready for the pain
And then ready for freedom
A small smile creeped to her lips
As she ran the sharp thing over her wrist
She lay lifeless
With a pool of blood surrounding her
Her lips were still formed into a ghostly smile
It was true happiness
It was true bliss
She had finally escaped the world
Where no one loved
Where no one cared
Where she never got true happiness
And she left it all behind
And flew away with the angels
Next morning her folks found her lifeless body
They cried
They said they loved her
They said they cared
But truth is
No one loves
No one cares
They only do so
When you are dead
-h.c
YOU ARE READING
Notebooks and Needles
PoetrySome people tend to find solace in writing out their feelings. I'm one of those people. A collection of poems I wrote. Even if you think they're immature, please no hate. Peace. -h.c x
