The Perfect Release
The Perfect Release
She tries to be happy. She really does. She tries to smile, and act wired. But faking happiness takes a lot of energy, and she’s really tired.
All she wants to do is sleep. Sleep was like death, but without a promise you must keep.
She could be in the middle of a sea of people. Every one of them happy and completely real. Yet the more people around, the more alone she would actually feel.
She could pick out her flaws like weeds, for hours. Wondering how anyone could ever, see them as flowers.
If she was with a bunch of people she wouldn’t feel lonely, you would assume. But she often feels alone in the most crowded of room.
People forget about her. No one really needs her in their life. Yeah they ask if she’s okay, but would they really be there to stop her from slicing her skin open with a knife?
Faking smiles, trying desperately to hide, all the pain, she feels deep inside.
Oh the things a smile can hide. She looks happy but there’s a war going on inside.
She tried to make them stop, but the memories continued to grow. Memories cut like razor blades; She would know.
But there is one thing, to make the memories stop. Slicing her wrists and pills she will soon pop.
She wasn’t thinking clearly. She just wanted to have peace. And suicide was her perfect release.
