suicidal poem

I was looking through a magazine when something caught my eye.
A picture of a girl, the words "attempted suicide".
The photograph was taken on the day she turned sixteen.
The story told of how the very next day she O.D'd.
Her face no longer innocent, determined to conceal
a pain so deep she made herself believe could not be healed.
She dressed in only black, and when her father asked her why
she said "I make myself ugly because that's how I feel inside".
Tangled in a web of sin, religion played its part,
so she found her love in heroin and worshiping the dark.
The day she turned sixteen she sat up in her room alone
and vented all her anger through a suicidal poem.
The next night when she closed her eyes, the needle in her vein,
she closed the door behind her on a world of only pain.
Her mother in a storm of tears, her father broken down
when they find her in her bedroom laying naked on the ground.
They blame themselves unbendingly, determined that they've failed.
The train they've tried so hard to steer has finally derailed.
They stand beside the bed as she's unconscious in her sleep.
The doctor says she's fighting for a life she wants to keep.
Hope can be a crutch, but sometimes hope's not what it takes
when its not the leg that's broken, but inside when something breaks.