Brooke's Final Tears
The tears she cries,
Be so thick,
They’re thick enough to stain.
They cling upon her cheeks,
Cling upon her clothing,
And cling to everything else.
She carefully lowers her body,
Scantily clad into the water.
Very warm,
It must be,
For she be icy cold.
Soft music,
It does play,
And candle light,
Flickering,
Helps to set the scene.
The dimly flickering candle,
Helping to calm her nerves.
She relaxes her whole body,
And enjoys the warmness of the water,
That steadily heats her body.
Silently,
She starts to weep,
But less than she has before.
Her tears, they do reflect,
Her true feelings inside.
A letter that Brooke wrote,
Is lying upon the vanity.
It’s partially soaking edges,
Still wet from all the tears.
Settled next to her note,
Be all the little candles,
Casting a flickering shadows,
Across the walls and all.
She picks the razor up,
And twirls it between her fingers.
She grasps her arm,
And cuts it down,
All the way to the wrist.
The blood it spurts,
Into the water,
The water quickly turning red.
With that she makes a second cut,
A third and then a fourth.
Slowly she starts to panic,
Perhaps this isn’t the best she thinks.
But the loss of blood,
Renders her a little weak.
She is no longer strong enough,
To stand and reach the phone.
Slowly the walls,
They start to spin,
And the blackness starts to envelope her.
And as the final song does play,
Brooke’s precious heart does stop.
Leaving only a bloody bath,
And Brooke who be cold as ever.
And tears upon her face,
Brooke’s final tears.
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