In days of old, I have been told, she was a beauty queen
Admirers surrounding her, for friendship they were keen
In popularity, she had the better of the fight
There were chick flicks and outings, and laughter in the night.

Paint the backdrop pink, and our killers take the stage
A breakup, lies to make up, social media outrage
Long fingernails to keyboard, they kept their weapons out of sight
And she read those harsh comments via whispers in the night.

These unrelenting demons subjected her to such pain
She succumbed to relief, through the bottle and the blade
And when society discovered that this girl was not all right
Enter therapy, and arguments, and sobbing in the night.

And now, we wonder fearfully, how does this story end?
In all honesty, dear bystander, I simply can't pretend
If she's ventured too far in the dark to now embrace the light:
Then what I fear most, is silence in the night.