Thursday Poets Rally Week 45,
Trembling hands picked up.
The white transparent bottle jingled full of pills.
She read the contents and it said tranquillizer.
She opened up the lid,
thought of popping some inside her.
But her self could not move it ahead to pour.
Bottle slid from her grip,
the rolling pills scattered on the floor.
Blankly staring the floor she started crying.
Small sobs turned into big hysterical ones.
Sliding on the wall she thudded on the floor.
A scrapbook laid aside,
she slept on that numb floor and opened.
The scrapbook slowly turning through pages,
she saw and remembered....
he and she talked
he and she talked some more
he and she met
he and she came so close
he and she confessed love
he and she hugged
he and she kissed
he and she were unbreakable
he and she never fought
he and she were the best couple
She is left...
She picks up the gun for once and for all,
a sound of click and she pulls the trigger.
She is also dead now,
and so the scrapbook is complete.