Beauty is driven,
And knowledge is power,
Said Anne Marie to her beautiful daughter.
The truth behind this would never be known
As Anne Marie’s daughter turned to stone.
She cut up her hair, her jeans and her shirts
She cut off the ones who loved her most.
She stayed up all night and never made good
She forgot who she was and what she was told.
She read every magazine, secret, and diet;
Losing herself, solemn and quiet.
Anne Marie’s daughter bleached her hair,
Behind makeup and boys she hid in despair.
The days turned to months and then into years,
Never once stopping and facing her fears.
Anne Marie’s daughter was only eighteen,
But surely depressed, no hope was seen.
She stayed out ‘till dawn, which turned into mist
And one fateful night she cut her own wrist.
She threw out her books, her art and the flowers
She sat on the floor, and cried in the shower.
Anne Marie’s daughter dried up her tears,
Laid in her bed, resting in fear.
She lay in bed cursing each demon inside
Every sad vision archived in her mind.
Anne Marie’s daughter was consumed with dread,
Of life, and of love, and the thoughts in her head.
It was the 16th of March, she sat silent instead
And the very next morning Anne Marie found her dead.
The pills were all gone, the thoughts out of her head
All the while forgetting what her mother had said.
Beauty is driven,
And knowledge is power.
And now she is wilting, underneath flowers.