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Image for the poem Her crimson blood

Her crimson blood

Her skin went pale, the gun she held to her head was violently shaking. Her gradient eyes constantly flooded with tests whilst her finger was lightly placed on the trigger. With just one movement the pain would end. With one touch all of the darkness that consumed her would be dismissed. In her head, the two options of ending it or not were swirling around and around. If she ended it, she would pass the pain to her loved ones. But the pain of her own was overwriting others. She calmly pulled the trigger, her crimson blood smeared across the white wall behind her. Her head was slightly tilted back, she looked peaceful. Like she was in a state of some sort of relief.
Written by Weeping_angel
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