a poem

A sad young girl, alone and scared,
sits hidden in the corner.
Trying to control the urge
To not use the things before her.
"It's just a few pills.
It's just a few cuts."
The girl tries to rationalize,
But deep inside, the girl she knows
That what she's telling herself is lies.
She wonders now what should she do.
Should she pick up the blade and cut?
Or instead she looks at the pills,
Should she take a little too much?
This sad young girl, alone and scared,
Confused on where she's going.
She knows that if she gives in
The outcome is beyond her knowing.
With tears in her eyes,
The young girl cries
And tries to make up her mind.
"I don't care.
It's just not fair.
Right now I want to die."
With shaky hands and falling tears
The girl gives into sin.
She let the urges take control.
She let the monster win.
And as she lays there on the floor,
Her thoughts swirling in her head.
She realizes there were so many things
She should have done instead.
But it's too late,
The damage's done.
She cannot rewind time.
So the young girl lays there dying
Asking herself why.