All locked up, in her room
Time ticking to her doom
She finds the blade with stains from before
Dark red spots of blood and gore
Sharp as a sword, small as a needle
The scares on her wrist, imperfect and feeble
She finds the bottle of half drunken beer
From a former, “Party of the Year”
She finds the weed on her drawer
How fun it was when she did it before
She hugs her blood-stained pillow near
And down her face drips a tear
Jumps up suddenly from her bed
With her blood stained blade of red
She grabs the beer and the weed
Into the trash, where it’s not in need
“The devil is a consisting foe,
But now God is whom I know! ”
Alyssa Rieper
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/her-room/
