The story of her : 3

Came running towards the door, Pushed and slammed it.  Coughed a bit.  Kept the bag aside, looking through the reflectors I just washed my eyes.  Kept quiet for sometime, I chanted death, Cuddled the pillow and cried.  Sharpness of blade must play it's role.  Let the impulse guide.  ©ritika24 💙