A Girls Tale

My soul is dead
And all that is left
Is an empty body,
Just going mechanically through the movements of life.

I am not here anymore,
Nor have I been for quite some time now.
It has just been the flesh and the blood,
With no spirit left to speak of.

My soul is,
As some say,
“gone with the wind”
and it will never return.

Or perhaps a more fitting term would be
“burned away to a pile of nothingness”
or possibly even something like
“washed away in the waters of death.”

But whatever you wish to call it,
I am no longer on earth,
I am in the Summerland,
Waiting for my next life.

And as I sit I tell my tale,
The long sordid tale of a young girl
Who no longer wished to remain living,
And so did whatever possible to die.

This particular girl,
Though talented,
Did not agree with Life,
And wanted it gone.

She would cut herself,
Overdose on things,
Yell at her parental units,
And alianate the human species.

They did not like her anyways,
She always reasoned with herself,
So why not just give them real reason,
True things to turn away from?
She had few “friends”,
Who were merely people like herself,
Just not as extreme,
That wanted someone to know so they put up with her.

She was greatful for companionship at times,
But at others she just wanted to be alone.
She knew she had a gift,
And she also knew how to use it.

And oh she used it well.
She wrote so beautifully it scared people,
And not just because of the content,
But because she was so young.

Then one sad day,
Or glorious day,
Depending on whose point of view,
She finally finished the job off.

She got so frustrated with herself,
She went into her father’s room,
Found and loaded the gun,
And blew her brains out.

But before she did this,
She left a little note for her mother dearest.
The note was short and to the point,
Saying only “it’s all your fault.”



 
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