She wear her scars in public.
Conceives wounds that concerns the living and the dead.
Death have been a welcoming friend.
Her true friends lives with the burden of fear, mutually related to her precious existence.
But to her, perception is like an airplane view.
Fickleness carries her eyesight and buried her vision.
She perceived that her absence in this world would wither what's left there in her mother's heart.
So she weighs her options through a bittersweet soliloquy of suicidism.
Temptation beats the appetite of a sycamore in the bewilder.
Presented in ways her world collide.
Propagating from every little aspect of her life.
She never had a enjoyable teenhood or beared its normalcy.
Instead she walked with a luggage of trauma alongside with depression.
Her safe haven were infirmary walls with companion of sedation.