She kept smoking twenty cigarettes all at a time
She sat on a crate full of Guinness
All her hair puffed up in marijuana smokes
With her lips mimicking some old dangerous trap music.
She was a burning rose,
A leaf bitten so much with life,
A tree whose stem was drying,
And would maybe die in the future.
Love had lifted her dark emotions so high,
No man matched either of her preferences
And even if they did,
They wouldn’t stay still.
She loved drowning herself in that bathtub,
She tried jumping from those balconies,
She even stuffed more pills down her throat,
She tried so much to find her spirit!
She couldn’t stop listening to loud music,
Watching from dawn to dawn,
She couldn’t stop running along the lines of trains,
And so on this fateful Friday evening that train ran over her.
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