Coke, Whiskey, Blade. It won't save you.

Snorting another line,
The dust dazed her brain.
She felt the rush again.
A billion little lighting bolts shooting into her.
Taking another shot,
Liquor sliding down her throat.
She felt the thirst being quenched.
Cutting her slim wrist,
Just enough for a tiny layer of blood to bubble up,
And trickle down.
She felt the relief.
The Coke,
The Whiskey,
The Blade,
Couldn't save her now.
It's over.
She peaked.
She was a fallen star.
Shot down before her five minutes of fame were up.
In high school she was dancing on tables at parties,
Now she dances on a pole.
She use to pop champagne.
Now she pops pills.
She use to screw the quarterback.
Now she screws to pay her rent.
She use to be beautiful.
And now she's a wreck.
The weight of the world cracked her.
It broke her.
And standing at the edge of the window,
Looking down at the busy city street,
The cars,
The happy people.
With hate in her tired eyes she glared.
Everyone was okay.
Everyone but her.
Her body was worn out,
As was her empty heart.
She closed her eyes,
and jumped.
The whirling of the wind was the only thing she felt in years.
She heard people screaming.
She raised a middle finger.
No one cared before.
As she hit the concrete she smiled.
No more pain.