She stares at ripples of water pass by,
Thinks of her mangled body flow in with the tide.
Her final last words: “Hold your head up with pride,
Now that you have driven me to suicide”.
Lungs full of water, a river stained red,
A young life lost, cos of something you said.
Her sweet eyes glaze over, her hair full of mud,
Her body floats by, surrounded by blood.
She swims with the fish, her heart buried in sand,
Small bugs float around her decomposed hand.
She wished she had listened: “Don’t pick up the knife,
Death is not glamorous, it hurts more than life”.