The Irony in Finishing What You Ended Anyway.

“I used to be dark,
if you’d met me,
you’d know.

It was no act,
but reality.
You all watched the show.

Pills filled my room,
blades smelling like rust,
with the essence of smoke.

Bloody kisses on my arm,
and you sat around,
‘cause you thought it was a joke.

I had dreamed that you’d help,
or perhaps even notice,
I was losing my fight.

Well, it seems I lost.
Because I hit the bottom,
in my pointless life.

Here’s all that’s left,
just my bloody note.”

The mother read aloud,
"That's all she wrote."