Her name was Taylor.
She was haunted.
The blood flowed down her arm.
The tears flowed down her cheek.
Her eyes could not stay open.
“Come back,”
A voice called out,
“Be here.”
She looked up.
“You belong with me,”
The angels sang.
Finally her life was enchanted.
And no longer were there
Tear drops on her guitar.

Her name was Taylor.
She was haunted by the nightmares of depression.
The blood flowed down her arm.
The tears flowed down her cheek.
Her eyes could not stay open.
“Come back,”
A voice called out,
“Be here.”
She looked up at them.
“You belong with me,”
The angels sang.
Finally her life was enchanted, peaceful, and painless.
And no longer were there
Teardrops on her guitar.