"I love you all, you know it's true,
I just no longer know what to do.
I can't take it anymore, no one cares about me.
I will be memorialized, wait and see."
I found the rope sneakily, after asking you where it would be,
and I tied it easily.
I bet you regret lending me the box...
and oh, how I cherish my closed door! Thank goodness you gave me the locks.
I started to cry. Alone. In my room.
I hung the rope from the ceiling, shuttering as I allowed it to loom.
As I climbed onto the box, I began to calm down,
realizing my name would be whispered from town to town.
The rope resembled a necklace as I pulled it over my head,
and I wondered who would cry, how many tears they would shed.
I kicked the box, knowing this was how to make people care,
but suddenly suspended, I struggled desperately for air,
and began clawing ferociously at my neck.
Then, I figured, "What the heck?"
Tears streamed down my face, and I could barely see any longer.
I thought I was strong, but the rope proved to be stronger.