She wore a smile like a loaded gun

Filled with the ammunition of

Eight years of suicidal ideation

But never did anything about it

Forged from fear of isolation

Never crossed her mind that

Loaded guns aren't for little girls

With life and death in her hands

And the tears telling her that

She can't always be smiling

When the end of the day tells her

She is still entirely alone

With only death as an escape

From the rapid deterioration of

Some kind of new reality

If it's nonexistence, heaven, or hell

She'd take them all over this

Take care of me, she says

As the metal hits her teeth

The fire in her eyes dimmed

But I swear that I could see her smile