All locked up, in her room <br />Time ticking to her doom <br />She finds the blade with stains from before <br />Dark red spots of blood and gore <br />Sharp as a sword, small as a needle <br />The scares on her wrist, imperfect and feeble <br />She finds the bottle of half drunken beer <br />From a former, “Party of the Year” <br />She finds the weed on her drawer <br />How fun it was when she did it before <br />She hugs her blood-stained pillow near <br />And down her face drips a tear <br />Jumps up suddenly from her bed <br />With her blood stained blade of red <br />She grabs the beer and the weed <br />Into the trash, where it’s not in need <br />“The devil is a consisting foe, <br />But now God is whom I know! ”<br /><br />Alyssa Rieper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/her-room/
