she thought that she was alone in the world, like
the rain was pouring on just her, just her and
nobody else, like the
whole world had come down and was laying
on her frail shoulders that were weathered with
age and misfortune, but she was only
her family had left her alone, alone and afraid
when she had reached out for them, when she
had needed them more than anything
and they just sat there and laughed at her bleeding wrists,
her tear-stained pillows, her broken heart
because they didn't care that she had gotten hurt, only that
she had hurt them in the process and they couldn't handle
the pain that she was holding on her shoulders.
they were surprised then, surprised when
the daughter they thought was perfect, perfectly
destroyed herself and finally succeeded in something
that made all of the pain of the world lift from her shoulders.
because when you are dead, there is no more pain
and she was dead, she was gone, they said
that they had missed the signs and that they hadn't expected
their perfect daughter to perfectly destroy herself, leaving
the pain of the world behind to sit on her mother's shoulders, her
father's lap, her younger sisters' hearts.
she left the guilt to rest on them and weigh them down, the guilt
of a dead daughter who was killed by suicide, swallowed too many
pills for them to save her from.
and she didn't even leave a note.