Her Day

my lost friend

She's not bleeding, she's not bleeding,

And even though the thought is needy,

Get a gun, pull the books from the shelves

Because, my son, she needs the help.

But sitting on the bathroom floor

Won't help her in this game anymore.

And if she's perusing through the right pages,

Maybe you won't last through her young ages.

And the shotgun shells being thrown to the ground

Only highlights the creases of her ongoing frown,

And maybe this will be the last of her phases.

Because she's not bleeding, she's not bleeding,

And even though she's desperate and needy,

Tear open the corked-bottle, take out the pills

Because it's the bottom and the last of her spills.

But she's not reading right this book,

She just knows how to act, how to look.

And she can't find the words to justify

Her actions, her whispers, the point of her lie.

And the water brimming over the edge

Just gets hotter and hotter and steams the whole bed.

And maybe she thinks that today's her day to die.