The Point

The Point

A Poem by MorbidSweet

As a little girl, 
she tried to do her best.
A quiet little thing, 
quieter than the rest.
Her mother tries to teach her
things she just won't learn.
Growing weary now,
the frustration slowly burns.
Nothing ever works.
The mother, she gets mad,
and the girl, she is hurt.
She gave it all she had.
But it's never enough.
And she gives up.
"What's the point?"

Now that she's a little older,
She looks into the mirror,
And hates the thing she sees.
If her skin was a little clearer,
Her eyes a little brighter,
Her hair a little softer,
Her teeth a little whiter,
Then maybe she'd be pretty.
She tries to fix her hair,
tries to change her clothes.
Tries to be the person
everyone would love.
But that's not who she is
Or who she ever will be.
She puts the makeup down
And says to herself,
"What's the point?"

Then one day, they meet.
And she feels so alive.
Like she's worth something
for the very first time.
She loves him more than anything
Yet he couldn't care less.
She begs for him to stay.
But he says "it's for the best."
She looks into his eyes
And she's begging, pleading
All he has to say to her is
"What's the point?"

She's feeling so broken inside,
Like she can't take one more day.
She takes a long look at her life,
And wonders where she went astray.
But it's all her fault that she's alone.
Maybe if she were been good enough
then this pain she'd have never known.
Maybe she could make things better.
But her hopes and dreams are destroyed.
Maybe she could keep on living.
But what's the point?


The point is on the blade
She now glides across each wrist
As she's slowly slipping away,
The sweetness of death, her final kiss.
The tears stream from her eyes,
and her heart begins to slow.
She's giving up on this life
and all the things she'll never know.
Maybe she could have been saved.
Gotten better in the end.
But now it's just too late.
A final breath, and she's gone. 
So what's the point?

© 2010 MorbidSweet


Author's Note

MorbidSweet
The loss of rhyme at the end of each stanza is on purpose. It may be a little choppy at parts, but I like it that way.

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Added on February 4, 2010
Last Updated on February 4, 2010

Author

MorbidSweet
MorbidSweet

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A Poem by MorbidSweet