suicide

its not a very good one.

 

She wishes she was dead

Laying among black roses on her bed

She wears flowers in her hair

So no one knows what she’s like

She thinks life’s not fair

No one knows she’s a dyke

She would be judged and her parents would hate her

Everything’s starting to become a blur

As the blood pours from her wrists

She gains the black kiss

She closes her eyes and lays to rest

Because now she knows she’s no longer a pest