A Cliche Suicide

A poem about a very cliche type suicide…first “decent” poem I’ve wrote in a good while…I guess.

Her black eyeliner ran down her face
As she cried tears of infinite disgrace
Her pale white skin turn cold
As she made the very last fold
To the note she will leave behind
There’s nothing more for her to find
Nothing to help ease her pain
On the carpet a huge red stain
From the blood pumping out her opened vein
Not one friend to her name
She bears witness to all her shame
Why’s her life even worth living
When all it ever seems to be doing is ending
As her cold body slumps to the floor
Her soul already knows what’s in store
Her note soaked with blood and cannot be read
Her last words are now dripping with red
Speeding up the end of her life
This is her just and final sacrifice