jonathanwood

Typing at the keys, Sins are written; Then erased. With ease, A note lay now; In front of her. A note explains, Of depression; Felt deeply. Grabbing the pills, Taking a few; Swallow. Deeply drinking, The alcohol; Poison to her. She looks, Messages; Coming in. She closes, The lid; And stares. Finally the pills, Take toll; Grinning. Feeling cold, The cold of death; Pleasantly releasing her. The pain is gone, A pleasant death; But only for her. Others weep now, Her body found, Cold as Ice. The father cries, The mother weeps; The siblings expected. But within the small crowd, A lover waited for them to leave;