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Here she stands.
Knife in hand.
In front of the mirror.
Looking through the glass.
Whole body shaking.
She positions the knife.
To take her own life.
Don't do it,they tell her.
She turns around.
To see her posters surrounding her.
It's probably nothing,she tells herself.
Just the wind.
She resumes her action.
To get a reaction.
The music plays,a song of help.
The lyrics ring loud and clear.
She couldn't really help it.
She had to hear.
The song ends,and she is in tears.
Tears of remorse.
She looks again at the posters,and smiles.
Now,that girl is happy.
That girl knows who to be.
But,you may not know this.
But,that girl is me.
I write the saddest stuff when I get depressed,seriously.
Wow,most of this actually rhymed too.
Basically,the music saved me.
It does save me.
Whenever I think of suicide,or self harm.
I just switch on that one song,that makes everything okay again.
I don't care if you fucking review it bad,or rate it down.
It's my stories,I do whatever the fuck I want with them.
(Thank you Jazzy,the best motivational speaker ever)
Jazzy should be fucking Pope okay?
Who is with me!
Rate and Review.
(BTW:I don't actually need help..)