Why?

By the time she reached fourteen,
She had everything
Her friends, her mates, none of whom were mean
None of whom were deceiving
Or so thats what she was taught to believe.

Her friends laughed and joked
On how a certain day she looked
She took it in her stride
And ignored it, maybe it would go away.
But slowly it strangled her pride.
She botttled it up and kept it inside.

Gone were the days, when they would ring,
and ask if she wanted to hang out
When they would laugh and joke and sing,
The days she never knew she would sorely miss,
Not being able to stay out late
With anyone and tempt fate
Experimenting with alcohol or cigarettes.

Sure I guess you could do
these things without your mates,
But not if things had gotten to be so terrible
And the only option seemed to be death.
Sure, she could have done these things
If she wasnt found two hours later
In the bathroom, slumped
Against the bath, dead,
And by her side a blade.
Only she knows what happened that night.

She drops the knife,
And counts the blood drops five,
The pain she is feeling,
That pain all so searing, not really from the physical bleeding,
But from what she is feeling inside.
She lets out a cry, a sigh
Frustrated that nobody cares, nobody understands.

She was always on her own, I guess
Maybe it was what provoked her to die alone,
It wasnt meant to be this way,
Not for her friends to ignore her,
Not even acknowledge her,
The only way, she thought,to make them pay
Was to make their eyes and heart to see
How unhappy she was by dying, to
Make them cry bitter blood, her blood,
That surrounded her wrist that night.