Suicidal

This is not for those with weak stomachs. She pulls out her teeth One by one Feeling no grief Just a job to be done Alone in her flat Supported by a wall A malnourished cat Together they crawl Starved for a feeling More stout than despair Nothing to bring Not a soul to care An irritable guard Positioned outside A cushion of lard Softens his hide He dares not glance When she passes by Fixed in a stance She wants him to pry But she knows he won't He just doesn't care Most people don't Even those that stare So there she remains Two floors above Bound by chains Rejected by love A rope, she places With a Birdseye view Staring dead at their faces Her lips are blue