She stares at the edge
She craves for it to carress
Her already scarred and broken skin.

The shine of the ledge
Will never cease to impress
She can't wait for the pain to begin.

On the floor is a rope
White in a sacred innocence
Without knowing it's full purpose.

She has lost all her hopes
She has left all common sense
It's her only way out, her promise.

Tying the rope tight
She makes a noose around her throat
While standing on a weak wooden chair.

The razor in her hand, feels so light
And taped on the wall, a farewell note
Although she knows no one will care.

The first cut sends a chill
And causes tears to fall freely down
But she doesn't feel any pain at all.

She remains sickingly still
In her own blood she starts to drown
As she slowly begins to fall...

The rope tightens it's hold
Around her pale neck it clings
Her eyes are open, but she sees nothing.

To the touch, her skin is cold
No more of her depressed feelings
She is lost in the memory of dying.